Kryptonite
by youngandobsessed
Summary: Kurt didn't think much of his new co-worker at The Daily Planet, Blaine Anderson. On the other hand, he couldn't get the mysterious Superman off his mind...little did he know they were one in the same. Superman meets Klaine!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Okay, so I can explain. So I got this idea from an old prompt on the Glee Kink Meme which went a little something like this: **_**Blaine is actually Superman. He shows up mysteriously to save the day and protect Kurt from the evil Karofsky. Kurt has no idea that the boy he's maybe kinda sort of dating is also the guy who has saved him so many times and who he guiltily fantasizes about every night. Blaine = Superman/Clark Kent, Kurt = Louis Lane, Karofsky = Lex Luthor. **_**And since I actually love Superman/Smallville…I couldn't help myself. **

**So I also need a super (no pun intended) long disclaimer since I'm borrowing stuff from all parts of the Superman mythology. Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or its characters, it belongs to Ryan Murphy; I do not own Superman, he belongs to Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster; any dialogue/situations I borrowed from Superman: The Movie belongs to Mario Puzo, David Newman, Leslie Newman, Robert Benton, and Tom Mankiewicz; Smallville and its dialogue/situations belong to Al Gough and Miles Miller (though I would like to own me some Tom Welling), and any situations/dialogue borrowed from Superman Returns belongs to Bryan Singer, Michael Dougherty, and Dan Harris. **

**Still with me? I'll shut up now.**

Chapter 1

_The explosion killed 35 civilians and injured 127 others. Authorities have not determined the cause of the most recent tragedy to strike Metropolis, but some are suspicious that these events are linked to a single culprit—_

"Hummel!" the gruff voice jarred Kurt from his intense concentration as his long, slender fingers flew over the keyboard of his laptop.

Kurt let out an annoyed sigh as he lifted his hands from the keyboard to swivel around in his chair and face his boss. "What is it now, Sue? We both know I have a five o'clock deadline and I still have another thousand words before I send this to the editors."

"Please, Hummel," the editor-in-chief rolled her eyes. "You can take five minutes to meet the new guy."

"New guy?"

"What, you got wax in your ears? Yeah, a new guy—Anderson!"

A man stumbled out of the Daily Planet's Editor-in-Chief's office, carrying a box of what Kurt assumed to be his belongings. Sweet Gaga, the kid was clumsy. He bumped into three people as he crossed the hundred foot space from the office to Kurt's desk, mumbling apologies as he did. Kurt was so preoccupied with his terrible coordination—he had just collided with the corner of Tina Cohen-Chang's desk and nearly went flying— that he didn't really notice the man's features until they were face-to-face. He was short, give or take an inch or an inch and a half shorter than Kurt. His hair consisted of a mane of unruly black curls that sat atop a face of olive skin. Kurt could make out a pair of hazel eyes that were hidden behind an absolutely hideous pair of black framed coke-bottle glasses and under a set of massive eyebrows. Who was this guy, Groucho Marx's grandson? Even his three-piece-suit looked rumpled and wrinkled. _Probably purchased during a two-for-one deal at the Men's Warehouse, _Kurt scoffed to himself.

"Hummel, this is our newest staff reporter, Blaine Anderson," Sue introduced the reporter. "All the way from Idaho."

"Actually, it's—"

"Not important, Lenscrafters," quipped Sue. "Not sure why I mentioned it in the first place. This here is Kurt Hummel, you'll be seeing a lot of him seeing as you two will be working on the city beat together."

"Wait, that's _my_ beat!" Kurt exclaimed. "You're putting the _new guy_ on my beat? Sue, this isn't fair!"

"No, what's not fair is you whining like this some high school muckraker and not The Daily Planet." Sue fired back. "Anderson is on the city beat with you, and if you have a problem with that, it'll become Anderson's exclusively." Sue threatened before storming back to her office, slamming the pile of papers Brett the fact-checker was holding to the ground in her wake.

Kurt and Blaine stared at the damage in shock for a moment before Blaine turned to Kurt.

"Well, it seems that we may have gotten off on the wrong foot," Blaine began, using one hand to push his glasses to rest further up on the bridge of his nose, and the other he extended to Kurt. "Blaine Anderson, I know you're not too pleased about all of this, but I'm looking forward to working with you."

"Yeah," Kurt replied with a considerably less amount of zeal, clasping Blaine's hand and pumping once before promptly letting go. He sat back down and pretended not to pay any attention to Blaine, who was currently unpacking his box of belongings onto the desk across from him.

"So, Kurt," Blaine chirped, clearly ignoring the fact that Kurt was trying to ignore him. "Where are you from?"

"Ohio," Kurt answered tersely, willing himself to refocus on his computer screen. _You have a deadline, Kurt, _he reminded himself, _now is _not_ the time chat with the loser competing for your job._

"Me too!" Blaine practically squealed.

"I thought Sue said you were from Idaho," Kurt countered.

"Nope. Westerville, _Ohio_," Blaine told him as he unpacked more office supplies and began arranging them on the desk's surface.

_Oh, the Boondocks. _"Let me guess, you're the corn-fed, All-American, kicker-for-the-high-school-football-team type?"

"Sort of," Blaine responded, taking his eyes off of his stapler. "I didn't play football though, I was in Show Choir."

If Kurt had been drinking some sort of liquid at the time Blaine let that bomb drop, he would have most certainly done a spit-take. _Kurt, you've finally found the one kid in Ohio that was beaten up more than you were._ He didn't say that out loud of course, but he couldn't stop himself from mumbling "There's two things we have in common" under his breath.

"What are those?" Blaine inquired. Kurt's eyes snapped up to look at Blaine who was now unpacking a few picture frames.

"What?"

"You said that we had two things in common," Blaine clarified.

Kurt took a flabbergasted dramatic pause before he answered Blaine. _How did he hear me? I_ _barely heard _myself_! _He noticed a smirk tugging at the corner of Blaine's lips. "Oh, um, it's just I'm from Ohio and I did Glee Club in high school as well."

"Neat!" _He did not just say 'neat', _Kurt inwardly grimaced. Blaine pressed on, "Where in Ohio do you hail from?"

"Lima."

"Nice town," Blaine replied, unpacking his laptop.

_Possibly the biggest lie of the century_, he thought to himself, but the only sound he made was a noncommittal "Mhmm." Kurt was about to devote himself back to his work, but his curiosity got the best of him when Blaine's expression shifted from intolerably cheery to melancholy as he gazed at the frame he was holding.

He tried to sneak a peek of the image that had caused the shift in Blaine's expression, but he wasn't able to. Blaine noticed his efforts however and passed him the photo frame.

Three people, two adults and one child, were sitting on a tractor. _A farm boy, _Kurt inwardly observed, _can't say I'm surprised._ In the photo there was a man with sandy blonde hair along with tanned skin that age had just began to etch itself into, sitting next to a woman, her hair a warm ginger color, her eyes a clear blue, and her striking face was illuminated with laughter as she held a young boy, no more than seven or eight, in her arms. The boy was undeniably Blaine, _jeez, his eyebrows were even uncontrollably bushy back then_, but he didn't seem to resemble either adult at all.

"I was adopted," Blaine explained, picking up on Kurt's confused glare.

"Oh. Cool." Kurt said, unsure of how to respond, and gave the frame back to Blaine.

Blaine didn't try to make conversation after the exchange. Both men turned their attention to their respective computers and worked in a slightly uncomfortable silence until five. Even though Kurt was less than thrilled about gaining an excruciatingly cheery co-worker, he welcomed the competition. A dopey farm boy was nothing compared to the sharks he had clawed past on his way to the top. _I mean really, _Kurt thought, _some of the kids in Glee club back at McKinley were more intimidating than this dork._

By the end of the day, Kurt's displeasure over Blaine had all but vanished as he waited for the doors to close on the crowded elevator car. Yet before they could, a hand flew in between them forcing them to reopen. The passengers all heaved a collective sigh as none other than Blaine Anderson sandwiched himself into the mass of people.

_Please don't notice me, please don't notice me, please don't—_

"Oh, hey Kurt!"

Kurt did his best to twist his cringe into an unconvincing smile. "Hi, Blaine."

"Heading home?"

_No, I'm off to my secret liar in the basement. "_Yep."

_Ten bucks he says—_

"Neat," Blaine responded with his trademark reply, clearly oblivious to all the dirty looks he was getting. _Didn't anyone ever educate him on the finer points of elevator etiquette? _

As much as Kurt wanted to end the conversation there, some annoying insistent part of him took pity on the poor guy, so he asked Blaine, "How was your first day?"

"Just wonderful!" He beamed and babbled on about The Daily Planet with all the enthusiasm of a fat kid describing Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory. The fifty-floor elevator ride never seemed so slow. And Blaine didn't even stop jabbering once they reached the lobby…or the building's doors…or the streetcorner.

"Well, Blaine, that all sounds—great, but this is my stop," Kurt interrupted the shorter man, motioning to the stairs leading down to the subway station. Truth be told, it was not his stop at all, the station for Kurt's subway line was another five blocks away, but he didn't think he could handle anymore of Blaine Anderson's incessant chattering without lashing out and making an extremely offensive comment about the size of his eyebrows.

"Oh, okay! See you tomorrow, Kurt!"

"Yeah, tomorrow. Bye, Blaine."

Blaine waved goodbye. And not just a quick, polite wave of acknowledgement. It was more along the lines of a full-on arm spasm that lasted until Kurt had descended the subway steps and was completely out of sight.

_He is so going to be mugged as soon as the sun sets. _

0-0-0

Blaine chuckled to himself once Kurt had disappeared from view and lapsed into a leisurely stroll back to his apartment. He may have laid it on a little thick with his co-worker, this whole alter-ego thing was uncharted territory for Blaine, but he couldn't help the strange, slightly sadistic satisfaction Blaine experienced when he managed to bother Kurt_ that_ much more. The reporter seemed so pristine and put -together and Blaine couldn't quite explain the feeling of accomplishment when he succeeded in chipping away at the icy, all-business exterior Kurt clearly worked so hard to maintain. Because if Blaine could break down some of Kurt's walls, then maybe, in the future—

Blaine prevented himself from finishing his previous thought. One day at The Daily Planet and he'd already burdened himself with a crush. Instantly, his birth-father's words came flooding into his conscious: _your enemies will discover their only__way to hurt you—by hurting the people you care__for. _Kurt could never be anything more than a colleague to Blaine, no matter how soft his porcelain skin appeared, or how his eyes seemed to be the most peculiar blend of blue, green, and gray, or how—

"Give me your wallet."

The voice came from the dimly lit alley to the right of Blaine. He felt the cold metal of a gun's barrel being pressed into his temple before he had a chance to so much as catch a glimpse of his mugger.

"You don't want to do this," he warned the man in a voice a few octaves deeper and more menacing than the tone he'd been speaking in for the entire day prior to this moment.

"Or what?" the stranger sneered. "I ain't afraid of no midget."

"Insulting my height, bad idea."

"Wha—" before the mugger could finish his baffled response, Blaine had grabbed hold of the gun, using it as leverage to twist the man's arm back so it snapped with a sickening crack, and pried the gun from his short, stubby digits. The man watched in a terrified awe as Blaine compressed the gun into a ball of useless scrap metal, then proceeded to hurl the deformed weapon into the depths of the alley.

"I said," Blaine reiterated himself in an eerily calm manner, smoothing over his suit jacket as he did so, "that you shouldn't pick on guys half your size. Ever heard of a Napoleon Complex?"

The man was too trapped in his petrified stupor to reply to Blaine's remark.

"It seems to me that you've learned your lesson. You should be more careful in the future."

Then, as if someone had flipped a switch, Blaine adjusted his glasses and ambled away from the frozen man, his mild-mannered persona utterly intact.

**A/N: So if anyone's curious I used the Jonathon and Martha Kent from Smallville (Jon Schneider and Annette O'Toole), here's a picture (just remove the spaces) http:/ (space) .com/ (space) CandidatePix/ (space) . Leave a review if you feel so inclined!**

**Hearts and Stars,**

**Youngandobsessed **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Oh my goodness! I am so surprised and flattered by all the positive response this story has received already! You guys are the bestest! I'm glad we can all agree that Darren Criss would make one helluva Superman (if he was only like…a foot taller he could have played him in real life and not just our imaginations). Also, let me clarify a few quick things, Metropolis=New York City, and The Daily Planet=The New York Times. I know in some interpretations (Smallville) Metropolis isn't always New York, but here it is. **

**Same disclaimers from Chapter 1 apply. Oh, and I borrowed the insult "Lame Anderson" from ****xSlythStratasfaction's amazing story **_**Sometimes You Need More Than Courage, **_**because I loved it too much not to use it at least once. **

Chapter 2

"Who the _hell_ is Clark Kent?" Kurt demanded as he burst into Sue's office. She looked up from her journal, completely unfazed. "And _why_ is his piece about an attempted mugging where my story about the recent bout of explosions in Metropolis should be?"

"Hummel, my theory that the obscenely constricting quality of what you call pants is responsible for your insanity is gaining more and more evidence with each passing moment."

Kurt merely glowered at her. They've been here dozens of times before. Their arguing is so practiced it's beginning to feel like conversational choreography. "Now, that you've gotten you're opening insult out of the way, I'd like my explanation for why something that that barely merits a mention on the police blotter is encroaching on my hallowed print space."

"Really, Kurt, I should fire you right now for challenging my editorial decisions…you're lucky you're such a damned good journalist or else you'd be back in Ohio, coaching Glee Club or something else equally abominable," Sue grumbled. "Kent is Anderson's pen name."

_Ah, right, pen names. _Every reporter that The Daily Planet employed was required to adopt a pen name after a writer was kidnapped and murdered ten years ago. Kurt's was Louis Lane. Leave it to Blaine to pick something so—"Hold the phone. _Anderson_?" Kurt's voice was venomous as he spat out Blaine's surname. "Why on Earth would you publish that buffoon's article instead of mine?"

"Who are you kidding? Even you have to admit that Dudley Do-Right's got a snappy, punchy prose style and it wasn't your average everyday mugging. The guy's arm was twisted out of its socket and his gun was reduced to a steel stress ball. Besides, Anderson's got the proper respect for his editor-in-chief and a nice ass." Kurt shuddered at his boss's comment. How anyone found any part of Blaine Anderson attractive was beyond him. "Anyway, you can keep your panties on, Hummel, provided you have space for them any in those things. The only reason I didn't run the article is that I think you're on to something. Everyone else is reporting these events, but if we're the first to come up with the reason for why they're happening—let's just say your Pulitzer aspirations won't be so far-fetched anymore."

"I'm on it, boss," Kurt assured her, his demeanor changed as he hurried out to back to his desk. He stopped just before he left. "And Sue?"

"Yes, Sterile Sam?"

"Sorry for jumping down your throat."

"I'm sorry too, Hummel."

"You are?"

"Of course. Your sperm must resent the fact that your masochistic fashion sense has rendered them useless."

Kurt took her snide remark as confirmation that things were alright between them and exited the office with an exhilarated grin.

"What'd she do? Sedate you?"

Kurt couldn't help but chuckle as he stopped to respond to his best friend, Mercedes Jones. "No, at least not this time. Cedes, she said the magic word."

"McQueen?"

"No, the other magic word."

"Armani?"

"Pulitzer, Mercedes. _Pulitzer! _Sue said she didn't run my article because she wants me to it beef up with more investigating. And if I can find the link between all these explosions, then I'm _Pulitzer Prize_ material!"

"That's amazing Kurt!" Her voice was tight but sincere. "…must be nice to be the star reporter."

His best friend's reaction caused Kurt's mood to drop significantly. Mercedes worked in the Leisure section of the paper; she and Tina were the queens of gossip in Metropolis. Although her job suited her perfectly, Kurt noticed that Mercedes occasionally envied the more 'legitimate' stories Kurt was assigned to along with the amount of attention and adulation he garnered for them.

Kurt scrambled to backpaddle instantly, "Well, you know, I'm probably getting ahead of myself. And if Sue's inappropriate comments about his backside are any indicator of her intentions, I'll probably get stuck working with _Lame _Anderson on it."

"Did someone say my name?"

Kurt jumped a little in surprise and turned around to find Blaine standing right behind him, blissfully oblivious to the fact that Kurt had actually called him _Lame_ instead of _Blaine_. Kurt struggled to cover up his insult while Mercedes tried to keep from laughing out loud. "Oh, hey Blaine! We were just talking about you and…how we wanted to _congratulate_ you on getting your first article published in The Planet."

Blaine smiled another one of those annoying ear-to-ear grins that made his eyes scrunch up. "Thanks! I'm really excited about it too, I've already sent a copy back Westerville for my mom."

_Big surprise there. _

"It was a, uh, really interesting story," Mercedes added weakly.

"I thought so too!" Blaine agreed emphatically.

"Yeah," Kurt joined in. "You don't see stuff like that happen every day."

0-0-0

But things like that _did_ start happening every day. Reports came piling in of more unsuccessful muggings, failed attempts at home break-ins and convenience store robberies, even a drug bust or two. The kicker was that no one knew who was responsible for stopping all these criminals. When the police would consult the security footage, the images were too blurred to gleam anything of use from them, which implied that whoever was responsible had to be moving at nearly the speed of light. But that was impossible, right?

These reports frustrated Kurt to no end. Sure, he was happy about the rapidly decreasing crime rate in Metropolis, but he wasn't too pleased that his own story about the mysterious explosions was going nowhere. And since Kurt was so immersed in research, the by-line _Clark Kent_ was appearing more and more in the pages of The Daily Planet rather than his. The worst part of this ordeal was that Blaine was truly a good writer. Or maybe it was the fact that Sue was right, he actually had a pretty nice butt. Not that Kurt had been checking him out or anything…Blaine just had a knack for dropping things.

"One grandé nonfat mocha," Blaine's voice startled him from his musings. Kurt turned to face his colleague who was holding out his coffee, the same stupid grin plastered on his face. The office had delegated that Blaine, not one of their twenty-six interns, do their coffee runs since not only was easily persuadable, but he could remember the entire staff's order without error. "And a blueberry scone."

"But I didn't ask for a blueberry scone."

"I know," Blaine shrugged. "But you looked like you could use a pick-me-up."

Kurt rolled his eyes. _How is a pastry full of carbs and empty calories a pick-me-up? _"Thanks, Blaine."

"Anytime, Kurt. That's what friends are for."

Kurt tried his hardest to hide his wince at the mention of the word "_friends" _but he had little success. Fortunately Blaine was already back at his desk engrossed in whatever he was typing on his laptop.

By the end of the day, Kurt's discouragement over his article had reached an all-time high. Sources weren't calling him back, leads were turning out to be completely useless, and the stuff he had sent to the lab for analysis had been "misplaced". On the bright side, Blaine was on the phone, which meant could there was a chance that Kurt could leave the office today without having his ear talked off by him.

"Yes, 34 Hickory Lane, Westerville, Ohio, 66605. No, _fifty-percent_ of my paycheck." Blaine told the person on other end of the line, clearly exasperated since this was about the fourth time Kurt had heard him reciting the information. Kurt began to quickly shut down his laptop and gather his things. "No, the fifty-percent of mysalary _before_ taxes," Blaine continued. Kurt rose from his chair and did his best to run-walk towards the doors.

_At last, freedo—_

"Hey, Kurt! Wait up!"

_And I was so close,_ Kurt sighed to himself as he halted and waited for Blaine to catch up. "Sorry I took so long. The people in the Accounting Department aren't exactly…_competent._"

"Don't tell me. Every week you send a check back home to that darling little farm back in Westerville."

Blaine blushed. "Well my mom's retired and she can't run the farm all by—"

"Hey, Blaine. Don't be embarrassed, I do the same thing for my family. Even though Dad and Finn claim that the shop is doing just fine, I still don't feel right not—" Kurt stopped himself, now it was his turn to blush. "Sorry, I'm rambling."

"No you're not," Blaine assured him. "We Ohio boys need to stick together."

Kurt blushed even deeper. He wasn't sure if Blaine was just being his normal, socially discomforting self, or if he was…no. Kurt wasn't even going to think it. If he did, he'd probably die from awkwardness.

They were approaching the elevator, but Blaine hesitated. "H-hey Kurt. I…w-well…I was wondering if perhaps maybe you would possibly—"

"HUMMEL!" Sue's voice ripped through hallway as she burst through the doors of The Daily Planet's office. "Hummel, I hope you don't have plans tonight."

"Well, I…" Kurt gave Blaine a bewildered glare and then turned back to Sue, "Um."

"Very articulate, Hummel. It's a tragedy you aren't in broadcast news. I dated an anchor once, he was an absolute _wildcat_ in the sack," Sue's glance at Blaine's hindquarters was not missed by Kurt "but I'm digressing. Whether you have plans or not, you're getting your tightly wrapped buttocks up to the roof. There's a chopper waiting to take you across the river, I've gotten you clearance to go over to one of the explosion sites."

Kurt's face lit up. "Sue…oh my…I can't believe…I won't let you down!" And Kurt took off running down the hall, without so much as a goodbye to Blaine.

"Bye, Kurt," Blaine mumbled dejectedly as he watched Kurt happily sprint away from him.

"Aw, chin up, Curly," Sue told Blaine. "Just because you are as sexually appealing as a lamp to Lady Trousers doesn't mean everyone thinks you're a light fixture."

Blaine instantly turned beet red. "Ms. Sylvester, I don't think that's very—I mean, Kurt is a co-worker, nothing more, I don't have any—I'm going to go now."

Blaine scurried down the hallway towards the stairs; Sue shamelessly enjoying the view as he left.

**A/N: I may enjoy writing Dorky!Blaine a little more than I should, but I promise in the next chapter we finally get some Super-Blaine action! And just remember kids, reviews make me update earlier!**

**Hearts and Stars,**

**Youngandobsessed**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I can't thank you all enough for reviewing/alerting/favoriting! I smile every time I get an e-mail from ! I'm so glad I didn't epically fail writing Sue (it's so hard to do when you're not Ryan, Ian, or Brad) and Dorky!Blaine has found a place in your hearts! But now is not the time for Dorky!Blaine…**

Chapter 3

The air felt crisper and clearer on the expansive roof of The Daily Planet's headquarters. A light breeze attempted to ruffle Kurt's perfectly styled hair as he tried to contain his excitement. In the center of the roof was a raised platform where the iconic Daily Planet gilded rotating globe slowly spun. The left half of the roof was designated for the helipad while the right half was the empty area where Kurt and his fellow co-workers would come up to sneak in a cigarette during the workday.

Just as Sue said, the chopper was waiting for Kurt when he arrived on the rooftop. He strode over to the helipad that was bustling with activity. There were a few men there to man air traffic control and one of the air traffic control guys greeted and escorted him over to the chopper where the very attractive pilot was waiting.

"You Louis Lane?" The pilot asked. He looked like he had walked straight out of Kurt's secret Top Gun Fantasy. He was tall, easily six foot, with tan skin stretched taut by obvious muscle, a deliciously masculine square jaw, and his hair had been shaved into a dark Mohawk. Kurt was never fond of the hairstyle, but it was becoming on this guy. A pair of aviators obscured his eyes from Kurt, which made him seem all that more dangerous, mysterious, and hot.

"Indeed I am," Kurt replied a bit breathless, extending his hand.

"Cool. Noah Puckerman, but just call me Puck," the man told him, returning Kurt's handshake with a strong grip. "You ready?"

"Yes," answered Kurt. Puck opened his door and helped Kurt inside the chopper's cabin. He followed immediately after and began to prepare the helicopter for takeoff.

"This your first time in a chopper, Lou?" Puck asked while he fiddled with the controls and communicated with air traffic control.

"No," Kurt informed him. When one covered as many high-profile stories as Kurt did, helicopter rides, complimentary meals at five-star restaurants, and celebrity acquaintances were common.

"Good," Puck sighed in relief before speaking more Pilot-gibberish-code into his headset. "I had some brat's birthday party before this, and two kids spewed before we even took off. I'm guessing you know all the safety stuff?"

"Don't have to worry about me!" Kurt assured him, tugging on his secured harness as proof.

"I wish all my passengers were like you," Puck chuckled wistfully. Kurt laughed as well while trying not to read too much into Puck's remark. He had a thing for falling head over heels for straight guys, and Puck practically oozed heterosexuality. Puck spoke into his headset again, "We are ready for lift off."

The spinning of the propellers soon became deafening and Kurt felt the chopper begin to lift of the ground, but then it hesitated. He looked over at Puck, who wore the same confused distressed look on his face as Kurt did and began talking rapidly into his headset. Kurt could really only catch ever other word… something about a malfunction. Before he could look down to see what was wrong, the helicopter jerked upwards and a loud crack sounded followed by a burst of sparks.

"WHAT'S GOING ON?" Kurt hollered, fear starting to grip him. He looked over at Puck only to see that he was slumped against the cabin door.

The fact that the pilot was incapacitated had barely registered with Kurt before the chopper began to spin out of control. Now there was no stopping the terrified screams that ripped from his throat as the rogue helicopter twirled aimlessly over the roof of The Daily Planet. A few seconds later, the landing skids caught on the ledge of the building and Kurt was thrust over the precipice as the cabin door flew open, leaving little between him and the cold, hard, concrete fifty stories below him.

_Now is probably not the best time to be an atheist._

0-0-0

Blaine trudged through the lobby of The Daily Planet looking at his shoes. He knew he shouldn't have been so disappointed that Kurt didn't want to grab coffee with him, and he should be happy that Kurt's big story was finally developing, but he couldn't help but feel just the slightest bit depressed at the fact that his golden opportunity had passed. And that Sue said that he had all the allure of a lamp…that had really just added salt to the wound.

_If only he could see the real me—_but that was the problem. Blaine could never be his "true self" around Kurt. In Kurt's eyes, he was always going to be seen as the pathetic, goofy, unsexy—

"Oh my God!"

"It's going to fall!"

"The poor people inside…"

Blaine had been too preoccupied pining over Kurt that it he hadn't noticed the unusually dense crowd on congregating on the sidewalk outside of The Daily Planet. Their concerned voices roused him from his despair, and when he looked up, his heart nearly stopped. There was a helicopter dangling over the side of the building. Not just any helicopter, a helicopter with _Kurt_ inside of it.

Blaine began to push through the crowd, ignoring the jeers and disgruntled remarks he received as he did so. There had to be a phone booth, or an alley close by…Blaine stumbled past a hotel entrance with a revolving door.

"This'll have to do," he muttered under his breath as he ducked into the doorway.

0-0-0

Kurt took deep breaths in a futile effort to calm himself as he stared at the street below him. A crowd had already amassed in the few minutes since the helicopter crashed. Hopefully that meant someone had called for help, but he doubted they would they get here in time…

An idea struck him. He peered up through the cabin past Puck's paralyzed form. If he could just climb over Puck and open the door, Kurt could probably make it back on the roof. He unbuckled his harness tentatively and carefully reached the other hand to grasp the console. Slowly, he twisted himself so he was parallel to the seat, his feet finding purchase on the ledge of the cabin. The sounds of sirens suddenly filled his ears which provided Kurt with a minuscule amount of relief as he began to hoist himself up.

_Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no FUCK! _

Kurt had slipped. Miraculously, he managed to grab the wire that attached the radio to the rest of the console as he fell, but nevertheless, now he was dangling out of the cabin. He chanced a glimpse down. The fire department was rushing to set up a trampoline to catch him but it was going to be too late, Kurt could feel the burn begin to spread throughout his arms. _Why, fuck, oh WHY didn't I work more on my upper body strength at the gym! STUPID FUCKING PILATES! _

He knew that people on the verge of life and death usually saw their life flash before their eyes, but all Kurt could think about were things he hadn't done. No Pulitzer Prize. No trip to Fashion Week in Paris. No husband.

His hands were sliding down the coiled wire…this was it…he felt the radio slip from fingers…

He was falling. Kurt was vaguely aware that the horde of people below let out a collective cry of horror as he hurtled downward.

Kurt saw his mother. Her large, kind blue eyes, that were so much like her son's, her long ginger waves, her warm smile that never failed to comfort Kurt when he was down. It was as if he could feel her arms wrapping around him and bringing him to safety.

"Easy now, Mister. I've got you."

That was not his mother's voice.

Kurt's eyes fluttered open so he could see exactly what was going on. Wasn't he supposed to be dead? If he was, then Kurt was pretty sure he was in heaven, because what else could be the explanation for the ridiculously beautiful man he was staring at? He had the most fascinating pair of honey-colored eyes that were framed with thick, dark lashes. Once Kurt was able to tear his eyes from the…angel's, he noted that the man's raven locks were slicked and parted to the side, yet a single curled tendril fell onto his forehead. Kurt's eyes scanned downward to take in more of his olive skin and appreciate his plump lips and strong jawline. _Perfection _was Kurt's verdict.

But he couldn't be in heaven. _I don't believe in heaven, _Kurt reminded himself. He glanced down, the scene hadn't changed, there was still a throng of bystanders and firefighters, not clouds or golden gates. Yet now he and Mr. Perfect were moving _away_ from the group instead of towards them. The realization hit Kurt like he would have hit the concrete if he hadn't been caught, they were flying. _Flying._ People didn't fly. Hell, not all _birds_ could fly. Yet here he was, rising higher and higher away from the ground.

"Y-you've got me? W-who's got you?" Kurt spluttered. The man just smirked and chuckled lightly.

It was at that moment that the building ledge had buckled from the weight of the helicopter and the chopper came plummeting toward the couple.

Kurt shrieked, throwing his arms around his savior's neck and burying his head where his neck met his broad shoulders because damsel-in-distress stereotype be damned, Kurt couldn't help himself. Kurt wasn't expecting to be crushed by the helicopter, but he certainly didn't expect Mr. Perfect to catch it like it was_ nothing_ and continue floating on upward. Faintly, in the back of his consciousness, he could hear the cheers erupting from below.

Before he knew it, Mr. Perfect was gently lowering the helicopter back on the helipad. Kurt still couldn't comprehend how the action seemed to be causing him no physical stress at all. Then he felt his own feet touch back down on the ground.

"Gentlemen," Mr. Perfect addressed the two stunned air traffic control guys kindly but with air of authority. "This man needs help." He motioned to the helicopter, where Puck was still unconsciously slouched inside. After a moment, the two seemed to overcome their awe and spring into action.

"You can let go now," Kurt heard the man gently whisper. It took him a second to realize that he was speaking to Kurt. He jumped back a little, sheepishly removing his arms from the vice-like lock they'd had around Mr. Perfect's neck.

"Sorry," Kurt mumbled. He was so embarrassed by his behavior he had trouble making eye contact with his rescuer.

"It's perfectly fine," he told Kurt, flashing him a smile that caused his heart to stop beating momentarily. But the grin left Mr. Perfect's devastatingly handsome features just as quickly as it had appeared and was replaced by a more stoic, professional expression. "Well, I certainly hope this little incident doesn't put you off flying. Statistically speaking of course, it's still the safest way to travel."

All Kurt could do in reply was nod his head dumbly in agreement. Mr. Perfect responded with his own curt nod and turned to leave.

"Wait!" Kurt called after him. Mr. Perfect pivoted around to face him. At this point, Kurt had regained enough coherent thought processes to notice what the man was wearing. He had no qualms with the spandex, _God—I mean Gaga, that man's body is perfect, _but the primary colors? And the cape? Oh, and he had just noticed the boots. But for probably the first time in his life, Kurt couldn't bring himself to care about clothing.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Who…who _are_ you?"

A coy grin played on his perfect lips. "A friend."

Mr. Perfect took off into the night sky before Kurt could question him further. Kurt stared after him, his eyes full of wonderment at the amazing man that had saved his life. And then he fainted.

**A/N: So, there's that (insert mischievous grin here). That's all the Puckurt I'll ever write, and for clarification, Chris Colfer said he pictures Amy Adams as Kurt's mom, so I used her in my description (funny because she's playing Lois Lane in the new Superman movie). **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I know you can't see it, but I'm smiling stupidly wide because your reviews make me so HAPPEH! Like seriously, special thank you to 1LostFan, UnicornMachine, MysteriousPerson101, specsO-O, GhostlyGreen for reviewing every chapter so far! It means so much! So for those who liked the Kurt inner-monologue, get ready for it in nearly obnoxious amounts in this chapter, and Dorky!Blaine is back. Because you know you missed him. **

Chapter 4

_What is that godforsaken noise? _Kurt thought to himself, refusing to open his eyes. The noise persisted and it didn't take Kurt long to identify the sound as his ringtone. He blindly groped for his phone on his nightstand. There could only be one person calling him at this time of night after he'd had a near-death experience.

"What is it, Sue?"

"Kurt, how are you?"

"Pissed. What do you want?"

"I see that even with a new lease on life you're still acting like a seventh grade girl in need of an attitude adjustment."

"_Sue_." Kurt glanced at the clock. 12:45 A.M. _Really?_

"Listen here, Hummel, I don't want to have this conversation just as much as you do, but Opey_ insisted_ that I _make sure_ you were okay with him writing the story."

"Blaine? Really? _Why_?"

"Because apparently his desire to get in your pants outweighs his desire to be a real journalist."

"What are you talking about Sue?"

"You know what I'm talking about. Just e-mail him a statement and this nightmare will be over."

The line went dead.

Kurt groaned and rolled back into a supine position. _Stupid, annoying Blaine. _He reached back to the nightstand for his laptop and hammered out (he may have used more force than necessary while typing) a statement concerning the events of the evening. By 1:07, the e-mail had been sent and Kurt was struggling to get back to sleep. Kurt desperately yearned to return to his Mr. Perfect-filled dreams, but there was one nagging thought that prevented him from resuming his not-so-squeaky clean thoughts about himself, Mr. Perfect, and some glittery ice palace.

_There's no way Blaine has _those_ kinds of feelings for me…Well, he does follow you around an awful lot…that's just because you're the only one who pays any attention to him…yeah, and look where that got you. Now he's smitten with—HIS CLOTHES ARE TOO UGLY FOR HIM TO BE GAY!_

Kurt ended the debate with himself with that last statement and he willed himself to sleep, although this time his dreams weren't fully of steamy love-making. All Kurt dreamt of was falling.

0-0-0

"Superman saves the day!" Sue read out loud. It was the next morning, and the editor-in-chief had assembled most of the paper's staff to discuss how they were going to proceed covering the 'Caped Wonder' or the 'Blue Bomb' that had saved Kurt and Puck's life last night. Only The Planet had been audacious enough to give him a name.

"_Superman_?" Kurt repeated.

"It-it's a reference to Nietzsche," Blaine piped up with his explanation from where he was standing in the back corner of Sue's office.

"Oh yes, the uneducated masses are totally going to get that," Kurt muttered to Artie Abrams, one of The Planet's photographers.

"Well, at least it explains that 'S' on his chest," he whispered back.

"Wasn't he a Nazi?" Brett asked aloud.

"Actually," Blaine began to correct him in typical nerd fashion. "He was a German philosopher, who, in the—"

"Hey, Specs McGee, guess what? I could care less who this Nitchy-guy is. All that matters is that the name's simple, catchy, and _we_ came up with it. Now look, I want the name Superman and The Daily Planet to go together like bacon and eggs, death and taxes, Sue Sylvester and victory, Kurt Hummel and skinny jeans!" Kurt scowled at his boss as a few of his colleagues snickered. Sue pressed on undeterred. "We're sitting on top of the story of the century here! Our only problem is how to get it exclusively. I want the inside dope on the real Superman—who is he? Where's he from? Boxers or briefs? What's his stance on implementing caning into nursery schools? And I'll tell you one thing, boys and girls—whichever one of you gets it out of him will have the single most important interview since Oprah drove Tom Cruise psycho."

The entire room remained silent as they processed the magnitude of their editor's remarks.

"What the hell are you all standing around for? Get to work, you sloppy babies!" Sue commanded. The journalists instantly dispersed.

0-0-0

"Do you think Blaine Anderson has a crush on me?" Kurt asked Mercedes and Tina, before taking another drag from his Marlboro Light. It was their coffee break, and the three reporters had slipped out of the office for a much needed Smoking and Gossip Session. Kurt especially needed a breather. All day his mind had been clouded with exhilarating memories of last night and silent prayers to Alexander McQueen that Blaine was _not_ gay and _not_ interested in him.

"And by 'think' do you mean 'know beyond a shadow of doubt'?" Mercedes retorted.

Kurt grumbled and buried his face in the hand that wasn't holding his cigarette while the girls giggled. "He cannot be gay! He never irons his shirts, his glasses aren't even square-framed, and he likes Katy Perry _way_ too much to play for my team."

"And yet, he spends his entire day making puppy dog eyes at you across your desks," Mercedes intoned.

"Ugh," Kurt huffed, his exhalation made visible by the smoke from his cigarette. "This _would_ happen to me. I always fall for straight guys, but when someone finally falls for me, I _wish _he was straight."

"Oh come on, Kurt, he's cute in a Steve-Urcle kind of way," Tina tried to help.

Kurt didn't dignify what she said with a verbal response, but rather shot her his bitchiest deadpan stare.

Mercedes sighed in exasperation "Honestly, Kurt, I don't know why you're obsessing over this—"

"I am _not_ obsessing—"

"—so white boy has a thing for you, who cares? If I were you, The Daily Planet's top reporter, I'd be more concerned with how you're going to see Superman again and get that interview."

Mercedes had a point; Kurt did have a penchant for over-dramatizing the situation. Plus, he really should be working on ways to reunite with Superman for professional and ashamedly personal reasons. _Maybe I should pretend to drown…yes! Then he would have to give me mouth-to-mouth resuscitation! No no, I should almost freeze to death so then we'd have to get naked to conserve body heat…_Nevertheless, Kurt felt a twinge of bitterness and jealously at her words. It took a considerable amount of his self-restraint to blurt out _Easy for you to say! _and ignite an argument with his two closest friends. But the truth was, it was easier for them to dismiss Blaine's feelings for Kurt. Tina had gotten married straight out of college, and Kurt knew for a fact that Sam, Mercedes' very own Adonis-replica, had begun to shop for engagement rings. Kurt on the other hand, was completely alone. Sure, he dated here and there, yet he sacrificed any sort of epic romance for the advancement of his career. Kurt had become such a workaholic that, to him at least, it actually _was_ a big deal for someone to be interested in him. But like always, Kurt repressed those feelings of loneliness to agree with his friend. His soon to be engaged friend.

"You're right, Mercedes," Kurt surrendered, taking one last drag from his cigarette before letting it fall to the ground and stamping it out. "Thanks for the tough love.""

"Anytime, Boo," Mercedes told him. She and Tina extinguished their respective cigarettes and the trio returned back to the office.

0-0-0

Kurt decided that the best way to deal with Blaine's boy-crush on him was to act natural, like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. That more difficult than it seemed, especially since Blaine had chosen today to be more bothersome and meddling than usual. Kurt was returning to his desk after his rooftop pow-wow with Mercedes and Tina when he bumped into Blaine.

"Sorry, Kurt!"

"It's okay, Blaine," Kurt told him, stooping over to help Blaine collect that stack of papers that he had dropped when he and Kurt had collided.

"So, are you feeling okay after last night?" Blaine asked Kurt, straightening back up and adjusting his glasses. "I'm sure it was pretty scary, I mean, I know I would…" Blaine trailed off, his features contorting with disgust, then turning almost comically solemn. Even his tone of voice had become more serious and hushed. "Kurt, you smell like smoke."

"Yeah, that's probably because I was smoking all of five minutes ago."

"Buh-but, smoking's bad for you!" Blaine protested like a fifth-grader who'd just completed his D.A.R.E. brainwashing in health class.

Kurt rolled his eyes. He really didn't have time to defend his life choices that were really none of Blaine's business. "Don't tell me. Lung cancer, right?"

"Not just lung cancer! Throat cancer, stomach cancer, kidney cancer…not to mention heart disease and leukemia—"

"Blaine," Kurt cut him off, his voice beginning to betray his irritation. "I realize you're just trying to be a good friend, but what I chose to do on my coffee breaks really isn't any of your business. I don't know what you do on your coffee breaks and frankly, I don't really care, and I'd appreciate it if you spared me the lecture."

"I know you may not want to hear it—"

"Then why don't you just _shut up_ and leave me alone!"

Kurt's exclamation merited a few irked glares from nearby co-workers. He hadn't really intended for his words to come out so loudly and acerbically, but the look on Blaine's face ensured that the damage had been done. He resembled some sort of baby animal that had just been kicked.

"Blaine…" Kurt began, searching for something to say.

The reporter held up his hand to stop him. "No Kurt, I understand. I just thought…I'm going to go file these."

Kurt flopped back into his desk chair, anger, guilt, and confusion all swimming around in his head. _I should apologize…but I don't _want_ to apologize! _He _was the one who brought the whole smoking thing up in the first place…who are you kidding Kurt? You know smoking isn't exactly good for you…yeah well, I'm going to quit because Blaine fucking Anderson told me to. I'll just wait until I meet a guy worthy of me considering quitting, like Carrie and Aiden in Sex and the City…and when exactly do you plan on meeting this guy? Because let's be honest, Blaine fucking Anderson seems to be the only guy in this city who wants a piece of you…no, don't think of Superman. Superman is so totally straight. You saw that outfit, those color choices…well, the boots were actually pretty gay…ugh I'm getting off topic! I should probably apologize to Blaine after he comes back from filing…Gaga, I hope I didn't make him cry, that would make me feel shittier than I already do. Why do you even care, Kurt? This little quarrel could be your escape route. Just think, no more yammering into your ear when you're trying to get work done, no more forcing yourself to be polite, no more pretending that the 42__nd__ Street subway stop is yours…No, as annoying as he is, Blaine's a nice gay—guy and you owe it to him…you know what? Stop dwelling on it. You're giving yourself a headache over this and you need to get back to work…you'll figure it out later._

Kurt spend the remainder of the day fantasizing perils that Superman could save him from, and then how he would casually transition into the interview, and then casually transition into activities that didn't involve so much talking. Back in the real world, he didn't so much as make eye contact with Blaine when he returned to his desk and left five minutes earlier than usual to avoid any awkward elevator situations.

The trip home was strangely quiet without Blaine's blabbering. He wouldn't admit that he missed it, but it felt…different from what he'd grown accustomed to. All evening, Kurt couldn't shake the lingering guilt he felt about telling off Blaine. Even the sodium-packed Chinese food and Tyra Banks' insanity on TV didn't help. Another night of Blaine-induced restless sleep passed.

The next morning however, when Kurt arrived at his desk, he found a box of Nicorette resting on top of it with a note that was signed: _A concerned friend. _

**A/N: Okay, I know this was kind of short and fillery. But things will get exciting in the next chapter…we're going to meet Dave Karofsky/Lex Luthor! Thanks for the continued love and support!**

**Hearts and Stars,**

**Youngandobsessed**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: So, in honor of my 50****th**** review (thanks to pyromanical fish for the win) I've decided to update early! I go could on and on about how I love each and every one of you for supporting this story, but I'll save you the mush and get on with the story!**

Chapter 5

Santana screamed as the car she was trapped in plowed through traffic. The other cars honked and swerved out of the way as she attempted to steer and stamped on the brake. Both efforts were useless. The Mustang just raced on, veering up onto the sidewalk and reducing a hot dog stand to shreds as the car rammed through it. Santana kept screaming, her panic becoming more and more genuine with each passing second as the car continued to speed through traffic. Santana resorted to blaring the horn as loud and as often as the device would allow her.

_Where _is _he? He should be here by now; he said that he would be here by now! I'm making enough noise, why isn't he here? Oh my God, what if he doesn't come? What if he's busy saving someone else and I'm going to die. God, I swear if I live through this I am going to _KILL_—_

Her thoughts were interrupted by her own ear-piercing scream at the recognition that the Mustang was barreling into Union Square, hurtling towards an outdoor restaurant full of patrons that wouldn't be able to get out the way in time...

Instinctively, Santana closed her eyes and flinched as she waited for the collision to come. But it never did. Tentatively, she opened her eyes to see why she hadn't flattened the diners to road pizza, and saw that she was _floating_ over the grouping of tables rather than plowing through them. She sat there frozen in shock, her hands still gripping the steering wheel as if her life depended on in it.

A few moments later, Santana felt the car being lowered to the ground. Her eyes flickered to the rearview mirror. There he was, in all of his wholesome, handsome glory. Superman. Santana stayed seated as she willed her heartbeat to return to a normal pace. _Heartbeat, that reminds me…_

"Are you alright, miss?" Superman asked after he opened her door.

She launched herself out of the car and into Superman's arms. "My heart!"

"I'm sorry?" The hero quirked an eyebrow at the woman clawing at his chest.

"I h-have a palpitation, a heart palpitation!" she shrieked, now encircling her arms around his neck. "And a murmur!" Santana added for good measure. She jumped up, forcing Superman to hold her bridal-style. "Take me to the hospital!"

Superman hesitated. Santana knew that he knew that there really wasn't anything wrong with her, but she had him by the balls. A huge crowd had formed around them, watching his every move and most of them had even whipped their phones out, snapping pictures or taking video. Superman couldn't just dump her on the ground and tell her to take the bus. Santana kept fake-weeping into his chest until he succumbed to the situation.

"Just hold on tight," he told her softly, but Santana could sense the reluctance in his tone. Next thing she knew, they were airborne.

The flight over to Beth Israel was much shorter than Santana would have liked. She kept her arms twined around Superman's neck and her head pressed against his broad, strong chest. _Damn, he smells so good! I know I'm technically not into guys anymore but for this one, I think I might be able to make an exception. _

Santana hadn't noticed that they had landed until Superman said "There you are, ma'am," and placed her on the ground outside the entrance to Beth Israel Medical Center. _Ma'am? I'm only twenty-eight for Christ's sake! _Santana dismissed the thought with a roll of her eyes. She needed to stall him as long as possible, and if things went her way, she would be stalling him by showing Superman just how young, energetic, and perky she really was.

"My heart…my palpitations…they're gone!" She pretended to marvel and rested a hand on his chest, right on top of the S thingy. "What'd you do?"

"I didn't do anything," he replied keeping his tone firm but friendly.

"It's Santana."

"Santana," he repeated her name carefully. "Glad you're feeling better."

"You have places to go, people to save…" she mused, her manicured hand sliding down his chest.

"Yes," he told her evenly, ignoring her suggestive touches.

Superman had begun to lift off, but Santana grabbed his wrist, halting his flight so that he hovered two or three feet above her. "…it's so sexy. Would you like to come back to my place? Maybe work on getting both of our heart rates up? I know that's forward but—"

"Goodnight, Santana," he said sternly, freeing his hand from her grasp and floating away into the night.

She huffed in disappointment and checked her watch. It had been an hour. She had fulfilled her part of her boss's grand scheme. Now it was time to kill him.

0-0-0

Dave knew from the moment he heard the stomping of heels across the marble floor of his billiard room and the high-pitched cursing in Spanish that Santana had returned.

"…Cabrón! Tú sádico carbon! Voy a _matarte_…voy a _tronchar tus test__í__clos_ después de qué me hiciste! No puedo—" she bellowed as stormed up to him.

"English, Santana," he sighed.

She had reached him now, and promptly punched Dave square in the jaw before continuing ranting in her second language. "I was going to _pretend_ the brakes were out…_pretend_! Like we talked about! You didn't actually have to _CUT THEM_!"

Dave straightened up, rubbing his jaw, his cool façade wondrously still intact. "Of course I did. A man can always tell when a woman is pretending, especially Superman."

Santana flung herself at Dave again, managing to get a few more slaps in before Dave's large, meaty hands snatched her wrists and restrained her. She may be scrappy, but Santana was no match for Dave's girth.

"Did you get your torpedoes?" she asked, her voice back to its natural state of indifferent contempt.

"_Missiles_. And yes, I did," Dave replied, releasing her wrists. "Did you get your super-fuck?"

"Ugh, no," Santana grumbled. "If I did, I certainly wouldn't be here now."

"I wouldn't be so sure, The Planet did say he had super-speed."

Santana rolled her eyes at his remark. "Please Dave, if I knew we were back in high school, I would have worn my cheerleader uniform."

"What's this about Santana and a cheerleader uniform?" a painfully nasal voice asked.

Dave and Santana whipped their heads around to address the rat of a man, Jacob Ben Israel, who had appeared in the doorway.

"Don't get your hopes up, Jewfro,"Santana sneered and sat down in one of the room's plush, chocolate brown leather arm chairs.

"What is it, Jacob?" Dave asked his henchman.

"Azimio told me to tell you that the missiles have been unloaded and stored," he told the couple.

"Good. Now scram," he barked at the little man, and Jacob did just that.

"You know, I don't understand two things," Santana pondered as Dave returned to his game of pool.

"Shoot," Dave asked as he lined up his next shot.

"Well, first of all, I don't understand what you need these missiles for. What are you doing? Using them as blackmail? You don't need any more money."

It was true; Dave had a net worth in the billions. It hadn't always been that way though. For the first half of his life, Dave had belonged to the working class, until high school when his father hit it big in the stock market, changed their names from their ancestral polish Karofsky to the much more Anglo-Saxon and powerful-sounding Luthor, and founded LuthorCorp, the most successful aerospace engineering companies in the world. The timing was unfortunate. Dave had just come to terms with his sexuality and was excited about not having to live a lie anymore. But the Luthors were in the public eye now, and the last thing Paul needed was the embarrassment of a gay son who wouldn't be able to give him any heirs to his recently formed empire. That's where Santana came in. She was the conniving cheerleader that had snagged the privilege of being Dave's date to senior prom after she blackmailed him with the threat that she was going to tell everyone why Dave apparently enjoyed being on the wrestling team so much. Santana had also softened him up with a confession that she was in love with one of her fellow Cheerios, rather than the male football players she was supposed to be rooting on. The fact that they had won Prom King and Queen that night seemed to seal the deal, Santana and Dave were going to be each other's beards until the truth did them part.

Santana quickly realized that being a kept woman was her true calling. She sported designer clothing, drove luxury cars (when she didn't feel like being chauffeured around), and got to screw whoever she wanted as long as she kept it on the down low and posed as Dave's longtime girlfriend at his social engagements. And although she'd never admit it, she did care for Dave, but she kept her affection to a minimum since it would totally conflict with her tough-girl image.

"What else?" Dave asked, thinking up a shot to recover from his last one since he had scratched.

"Aren't you going to explain the first one?"

"What's the other thing you don't understand, Santana?" His tone made it clear that Dave wasn't going to capitulate.

"You seem very nonchalant about the whole Superman thing," Santana stated as-a-matter-of-factly. "I mean making jokes about his sexual prowess? I thought you'd see him more as a threat."

"If tonight is any indicator of what we're up against, I'd say that Superman is nothing more than an overgrown Boy Scout. He'll make things more difficult, no doubt, but he's nothing I can't handle," Dave replied casually, taking a shot.

"You still haven't told me what the missiles are for," Santana pressed.

Dave halted his game to address her. "Santana, what did my father always used to say to me?"

"Get out."

"No, before that."

"Why are you listening to Christina Aguilera?"

"No! He said 'Son, stocks will rise and fall, utilities and transportation systems may collapse, and people are no damn good—but they'll always need land, and for that they'll pay, through the nose. Remember that,' my father said. '_Land_.'"

"So _that's_ why you bought hundreds of miles of cheap desert land out west?" Santana questioned unimpressed. "Hate to rain on your little fatherly-advice induced parade, but all that land is _worthless_."

"It won't be for much longer," Dave assured her, his tone becoming sinister for the first time in their conversation. "That's where the missiles come in. I'm going to give the West Coast a facelift and make my newly acquired real estate the most expensive in the country."

"What are you going to do? Blast off California from the rest of the U.S.?" joked Santana.

"I knew you were smarter than you looked, Lopez."

She gaped at him. "You can't be serious."

"You know I never joke about business," he reminded her.

"Dave…you can't just…people are going to…you can't do this!" Santana objected.

"I am," Dave asserted, laying his pool cue down on the table to approach Santana. He towered over her seated form. "And I invite you and Superman to try and stop me."

**A/N: DUN DUN DUN! The plot thickens! I hope you enjoyed the Superman/Santana interaction as much as I did. That scene is like one of my favorites from **_**Superman Returns**_**, so when I was integrating it into my story I knew that Santana was the girl for the job. And for Lex!Karofsky, I went more Gene Hackman/Kevin Spacy Lex Luthor from the movies instead of Michael Rosenbaum Lex from Smallville. Therefore, I don't really see Dave as bald…yet. Also, a lot of you have said that you are Superman fans, so if you have any suggestions from the mythology that you'd like to see, I'd be more than happy to consider them! Just remember reviews=love. And earlier updates. **

**Hearts and Stars,**

**youngandobsessed**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Yay! Another early(ish) update! We get a taste of Dorky!Blaine **_**and**_** Super!Blaine in this chapter. And that's all I'm going to say about that…**

Chapter 6

"You're falling down on the job."

"Sue, I—"

"I thought out of all people that you would have scored the interview with Superman—"

"It's only been a week and a half, Sue—"

"That's my point!" Sue contended. She and Kurt were engaged in another one of their verbal sparring sessions. "My spies have informed me that The Metropolis Daily News _and _The Post have stunts in the works to get his attention. Some are speculating that that hooker he saved last week may have been a journalist."

"She wasn't a journalist and besides, witnesses saw Superman drop her off at the hospital a mere three minutes after he rescued her." Kurt pointed out before fully processing his boss's previous statements. "Wait…you have spies?"

"Of course I do, but we're digressing. So you have yet to get the Superman story, and your explosion story is going _nowhere_—"

"Not true!" Kurt cut her off. "Remember those missiles that were stolen from that government shipment last week? I'm almost positive they're related."

"Almost isn't good enough Kurt! I need concrete facts! Evidence!"

Kurt hated to admit it, but Sue had a point. "I'm not a machine, Sue."

"Obviously. Remind me why you're my top reporter, Kurt. It'd be such a shame if you went back to writing obituaries."

Kurt stalked out of Sue's office and collapsed on his desk. Sue's words wouldn't have been so frustrating if they weren't actually accurate. _Is she right? Am I really losing my edge?_

"What's wrong?"

Kurt lifted his head up. This was the first time Blaine had spoken two words to him that weren't "excuse me" or "coffee order" in ten days. "What?"

"I asked you what was wrong," Blaine reiterated himself, a small, sympathetic smile on his face.

"Oh, it's just Sue. She kind of chewed me out in her office just now," Kurt explained warily_. Since when has Blaine decided to like me again?_

"Why?"

"I've kind of dropped the ball recently. My big exposé is going nowhere fast and she expected me to have nabbed the Superman interview by now," Kurt told him.

Blaine paused to digest the information. "Tell you what, why don't we stay late tonight and I'll help you work on your exposé."

"You'd do that for me?" Kurt queried, astonished until he realized what Blaine was playing at. "Wait, I don't share by-lines."

"I know! I'd just be helping out. You don't even have to give me an 'additional reporting' credit," Blaine assured him.

"Then…I still don't understand you're helping me."

"It's like I said, we Ohio guys have to look out for each other. I'm just happy to help," Blaine's signature dorkiness was returning more with every remark.

"Um, okay thanks," Kurt replied, wariness still mixed in his voice. "That takes care of that. What about Superman?"

"Well, I could always push you in front of a cab or something," Blaine suggested, his tone completely sincere.

Kurt couldn't help but laugh. "No, no, that's okay Blaine. I was just thinking out loud there."

"Oh right," Blaine blushed. "I…I was joking."

"And Blaine?" Kurt said before Blaine could bury himself back in his work. "I just wanted to apologize…for, um, what I said…you know, how I acted toward you last week. You were just being nice and the way I acted wasn't...it was uncalled for."

"Apology accepted, Kurt," Blaine replied, his trademark grin spreading across his lips. "I forgive you."

0-0-0

"Okay, now it's starting to get pathetic how in love he is with you," Mercedes declared.

Kurt shrugged his shoulders. "Might as well use it to my advantage, I really need help on this article."

"You apologized to him, right?" Tina asked. "Kurt Hummel, tell me you apologized to him before you let him sign himself up for slave labor."

"Of course I did!" Kurt snapped, a little offended that Tina had assumed he didn't.

"So you're really going to do it, then?" Mercedes inquired. "You're really going to spend all night _alone _with him?"

"Yes, Mercedes," Kurt replied exasperatedly. "It's not like he's going to make a move or anything."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Mercedes retorted. "He did seem pretty ready to forgive you."

"Well that's a risk I'm willing to take," Kurt responded defensively. "I _really_ want this Pulitzer."

Mercedes rolled her eyes.

"Well, it's a shame," Tina interjected, trying to lighten the mood before the two divas started tearing at each other's throats. "We were hoping that you'd come out to dinner with us tonight."

_Ugh, an evening of bad sushi and being the fifth wheel, not my ideal dinner situation. _Kurt kept his thoughts to himself (again) and simply replied "Next time, I promise."

"Okay, then. See you later, Kurt!" Tina said, pulling a reluctant Mercedes along with her.

"Bye, girls," he muttered.

0-0-0

The next three hours passed by in haze of research, fact-checking, and failed attempts at trying to piece together what the two reporters knew into a semi-coherent explanation for the explosions and stolen missiles. Kurt was impressed by Blaine's professionalism, there had been no flirtatious comments or longing glances so far. In fact, Blaine Anderson had been all business ever since they started. And as much as Kurt didn't want to admit it, it bothered him a little.

Blaine had noticed that Kurt had begun to get fidgety. "Is everything okay?"

"Oh, um yeah. I'm just getting hungry." Kurt lied. He wasn't hungry, he just wanted a cigarette…_really _wanted a cigarette…_needed _a cigarette.

"Oh! Why didn't you say something?" Blaine replied, his usual perky, blissfully oblivious self. He didn't suspect a thing. "Do you want me to run down to the Mexican place on 43rd and get us something?"

Kurt anxiously gave Blaine his dinner order. As soon as his co-worker disappeared behind the elevator doors, Kurt made a b-line for the roof. By the time he reached it, he already had procured a smoke from the pack and had his lighter in hand. He took a couple paces over to where he usually lit up with Tina and Mercedes. Now all he had to do was click his lighter and…

The lighter wasn't working. Kurt let out an annoyed sigh and tried again. And again. And again. _What the fuck is wrong with this lighter?_

"You know, you really shouldn't smoke, Mr. Lane."

Kurt froze. He knew that voice. The last time he heard it he was on this very rooftop. This couldn't be real, could it? Was Kurt so desperate for a cigarette that he was hallucinating? Kurt slowly turned in the direction the voice came from.

"Oh my God, it's you."

Superman smiled amusedly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you."

"No! I mean, no, you're fine. I was just surprised…I mean, I just wasn't expecting _you_." _Articulate Kurt, very articulate._

"Well, I hate to drop in on you like this," he explained, approaching Kurt. "But I figured that people must have a lot of questions about me."

Kurt stared at him dumbstruck. "So…you're here for an interview?"

Superman nodded, "Only if you're up to it, Mr. Lane."

"I'm definitely up for it! Just let me…" Kurt trailed off to fish his tape recorder out of pocket and pressed record. "So…um…let's start with your vital statistics. Age?"

"Thirty." _Only a year older than me, _Kurt thought to himself.

"Height?"

"Five-nine."

"Weight?"

"One sixty-five."

"And I take it the rest or your bodily functions are what we'd consider...normal?"

"I beg your pardon?" Superman's brow knitted together in confusion.

Kurt flushed crimson. _Gaga, that was a stupid question. _"Well—to put it delicately—do you eat?"

"When I'm hungry," he replied coyly.

"And do you sleep?"

"Yes, but I don't need eight hours like everyone else," the superhero explained.

"Right," Kurt responded, trying to think of another question. There was so much he wanted to ask him but of course, every time Kurt's eyes met Superman's golden ones, he forgot his own name, much less appropriate interview questions. "What's your background? Where did you come from?"

"Far away," he told him.

"How far? Something tells me you're not from Ohio," Kurt quipped.

Superman suddenly became very solemn, his playful and diffident attitude fading. "I was born on the planet Krypton. I was sent to Earth as a baby before the planet was destroyed."

"So that would mean you're a…"

"Extraterrestrial, yes." He finished. Superman couldn't help but chuckle at Kurt's gaping expression. "Don't tell me, you were expecting little green men?'

"Honestly, yes," Kurt confessed, laughing a little himself. "But I'm glad you aren't…you know…you don't look like that."

"Thank you," Superman said, flashing Kurt a devastatingly handsome smile that made his knees weak.

"Is there a reason why you're here? I mean, why Earth?" Kurt inquired.

"I'm here to fight for truth, justice, and the American way," he replied resolutely.

Kurt burst into laughter but quickly got a hold of himself after he caught of Superman's surprised and slightly offended expression. "Oh, you're actually serious. Sorry, I just…you know you're going to wind up fighting every elected official in the country, right?"

"I'm sure you really don't mean that, Mr. Lane," Superman said, his voice firm but still tinged with hurt.

"Sorry, I'm just jaded," Kurt hurriedly apologized. "How about we discuss your…abilities instead?"

"Whatever you say, Mr. Lane."

"Okay, well, so far there have been reports that you can fly, possess enhanced strength and speed, are impervious to pain, and can see through solid objects. Is that accurate?"

"Yes," Superman confirmed.

"You can really see through anything?" Kurt questioned, still not totally convinced.

"Just about."

"What color underwear am I wearing?"

"Blue," Superman replied completely unfazed. "I can do card tricks too."

"I'm sorry, that was unprofessional," Kurt apologized again.

"No need to apologize, Mr. Lane," Superman assured him.

_Did he just…? No, Kurt, you're reading too much into things. Just ask him another question. _"Are there any other powers we should know about?"

"I also have enhanced hearing, super breath, and heat vision," reported Superman.

"That's interesting," Kurt said. Now on to the question everyone was dying to know. "Got a girlfriend?"

"No."

"What about a boyfriend?" Kurt tried to make the question sound like a joke, but it was really just his masochistic inner hopeless romantic trying to cling on to the _very_ slight chance that Superman_ might_ actually be—

"If I have a boyfriend, Louis Lane, you'll be the first to know." Superman's reply didn't sound like a joke at all.

_Wait, okay, no. Superman did not just flirt with me. _

"Got any weaknesses?" Okay, maybe that wasn't the most brilliant question to ask, since Superman probably wouldn't want the world to know how to defeat him, but Kurt was still trying to recover from the second _not_-flirty remark Superman had made.

"Snarky reporters in perfectly tailored Armani suits," he replied coolly.

_Oh Sweet Gaga, Superman's flirting with me. Quick, deflect with a clever comment before the blush spreads to the rest of your face_. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Superman asked, slightly troubled. _Grilled Cheesus, his confused face is too adorable. _

"Every woman in Metropolis's heart breaking," Kurt informed him sharply.

Superman took a step nearer to Kurt, his lips so temptingly close. "Then I guess it'll just have to be our little secret."

This was getting bad. So bad that Kurt was forced to move on to insults to keep from fainting, or worse, closing the distance between their lips. "Well, the fondness for primary colors is inexcusable then, considering the fact that…well, your _secret_."

Superman laughed. "My apologies, we can't all be as fashionably inclined as yourself, Mr. Lane. But if you must know, I didn't design the costume."

"Who did, then?" Kurt wondered.

"My mother," he replied simply.

"You sound like Blaine," Kurt chortled.

"Who's Blaine?"

"Just some guy I work with," he told him dismissively. "Speaking of which, you don't have a day job, do you?"

"Trust me, you wouldn't believe me if I told you," Superman guaranteed, that knee-weakening smile gracing his impossibly handsome features again.

"Not cryptic at all," Kurt sighed sarcastically. _'You wouldn't believe me if I told you?' What's that supposed to mean? He's a fry cook at McDonald's?_

"Is there anything else you'd like to know, Mr. Lane?"

_Would a dinner at Jean George's be too forward? _Naturally,Kurt didn't voice the retort and instead tried to think of some of the main points he'd discussed with Sue. "What does the S on your chest stand for?"

"Family crest," he replied. "It's my Kryptonian family crest."

Kurt nodded in comprehension before another question struck him. "How fast can you fly?"

Superman shrugged. "I'm not sure, I've never actually timed myself," a devious yet inviting smile spread across his plump lips after he replied, however. "Want to find out?"

Kurt stared in shock at Superman's outstretched hand. He wanted to. He _really_ wanted to. He wanted to find out how quickly they could get to Paris, get a room, and then get it on. But Kurt couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt over abandoning Blaine…he'd sacrificed his night to help Kurt and he would be an undeniable asshole if Kurt just left him to go off cavorting with Superman…even if Superman did look so attractive it almost _hurt_ to look at him…

"I…guh." came Kurt's very eloquent response.

"It's okay," Superman reassured him. He didn't seem offended at all. "Some other time, then."

Kurt was only capable of producing a strangled sound that he hoped sounded like assent.

"Until next time, Mr. Lane…" Superman said, nodding his head and beginning to back away.

"You can call me Kurt," he blurted out. So what if he could be fired for disclosing his real name?

"Kurt?"

"Yeah…um, Louis Lane is just my pen name," Kurt explained, the crimson returning to his cheeks.

"Kurt," Superman repeated the name to himself with a content smile. "I like it, it suits you better, anyways. So long, Kurt."

Kurt watched with wide eyes as Superman took off into the night. He ran over to the ledge in a foolish effort to see him go, but the hero was already out of sight. He couldn't help but sigh a little in disappointment. Kurt couldn't be too disappointed though because _Superman was GAY_. He understood why the hero wanted to keep his sexuality a secret, America was still adjusting to the idea of Superman, and his homosexuality would make him too controversial. Normally that kind of stuff pissed Kurt off, but the fact that Superman wanted _Kurt_ to know he was gay, that he trusted Kurt with his secret, and wanted to _act_ on it, made his closeted-status tolerable. He still couldn't wrap his mind around it…_Superman was GAY_. Although Kurt didn't believe in religion, he sure as hell believed in karma. This must have been the reason he was so mercilessly picked on from kindergarten to twelfth grade, so that this amazing, truly _super_ man could—

Kurt's thoughts were interrupted by the pressure of a pair of delicious, full lips pressing against his unexpectedly. The lips were immediately accompanied by two strong but gentle hands gripping either side of his face. It took Kurt a few moments to realize what was happening, but once he did, Kurt returned the kiss with everything he had. The liplock didn't last long, Superman pulled away before Kurt could try to slip his tongue into his mouth, but Kurt felt faint, giddy, and feverish all at the same time nonetheless.

They exchanged an intense stare before Superman spoke. "I'm sorry, I couldn't resist." He winked and then he was gone again just as quickly as he came.

Kurt had to grasp the ledge very tightly so he wouldn't pass out again. He retrieved his tape recorder, which had been unceremoniously dropped to the ground once Superman's lips had collided with his. He hit stop and practically sleep-walked back down to the newsroom.

That kiss…It was if he had never been kissed before. When their lips met, it felt like they had been waiting to kiss each other forever. _Damn that sounds sappy, _Kurt tried to reprimand himself. At least he hadn't burst into a fit of giggles and shrieks like a teenage girl.

Blaine was waiting for him when Kurt arrived back at their desks. "Kurt, there you are! I got your burrito naked just like you asked."

"That's Blaine, nice."

Blaine stopped and took a good look at his colleague. "Kurt, where exactly did you go?"

"The roof. I needed some air." Kurt told him, still in his dreamy state.

"Air?" Blaine wasn't buying it. "Tell the truth now, were you smoking?"

"Blaine, I can honestly say that I was not smoking," Kurt told him, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Okay," he replied cautiously. "Are you sure you're alright though? You look flustered."

"Trust me, Blaine, I'm fine."

The two ate their meal, chatting about work and Ohio. Even after half an hour, Kurt still couldn't snap out of his Superman-induced daze. Blaine was cleaning up their dinners when Kurt proposed, "Hey, Blaine? How about we call it a night?"

"Are you sure?" Blaine asked.

"Yeah, I feel like I've hit a wall and I think we made some progress on the story," Kurt said, beginning to gather up his things. Blaine followed him soon after and they left The Daily Planet together, just as the night custodial staff was arriving.

"Thanks again for helping out with my article," Kurt told Blaine as they stood outside the doors of the building.

"It was my pleasure, Kurt," Blaine promised.

"Well, see you tomorrow," Kurt said awkwardly. He wasn't going to hug Blaine, but should he offer a handshake? _No, that would be the cherry on top this awkward sundae._

"Sure thing!" Blaine chirped before heading uptown.

Kurt then proceeded to skip home, because being a twenty-nine-year-old man be damned, he'd had a really good night.

**A/N: THEY KISSED! Sorry, that was a bit of Twitter/Glee humor for you all. Next chapter, someone takes someone else on a romantic flight over Metropolis (Hint: It's not Puck the pilot). I really love reading all of your reviews, they're all so wonderful and witty, and would love to read more of them! **

**Hearts and Stars,**

**youngandobsessed**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: So have I mentioned that you guys rock? Well, I am again because I ALMOST HAVE 100 REVIEWS! What is this madness? Now, cue the romantic flying music…**

Chapter 7

Kurt strutted into The Daily Planet, straight to the Editor-in-Chief's office, humming "Rose's Turn" under his breath.

_Everything's coming up Kurt…everything's coming up Hummel…_

And for once his life, it really did feel that things were_ finally_ going his way. At least they were this morning—he was having a good hair day, the subway was on time, and he had found a bouquet of roses on his balcony with the note _Tonight, 8 o'clock. _

Kurt burst into Sue's office, blatantly disregarding her strict knocking policy, and hung up the phone call she was on.

"KURT HUMMEL! WHAT THE—HOW DARE YOU! THAT WAS—"

Kurt cut her off by slamming down a small stack of stapled paper on her desk. "Read."

Sue shot him a deathly glare before doing so. Yet as soon as her eyes scanned the title of Kurt's piece, her entire expression changed immediately. She looked up at him and spoke seriously, "Is this real?"

"Of course it is," Kurt told her. "If you'd actually read it, you'd see there's stuff in there I couldn't make up."

"Where did you find him?"

"He found me."

"Where?"

"The roof. I was working late last night and went up for a smoke and there he was, ready and willing."

"Mmmm," Sue replied, returning her attention to the story and reading intently. Kurt let out a satisfied sigh and relaxed into one of Sue's intentionally uncomfortable desk chairs (one of her many scare tactics). But not even the steel wool could impair Kurt's good mood. A few more minutes passed before Sue finished and made eye contact with him again. "This is good."

"I feel like good may be a slight understatment," Kurt gloated.

"It's good," she reaffirmed. "Now get out of my office."

"_What?_ Sue, I thought you'd be jumping for joy over this!" Kurt exclaimed, baffled by his boss's behavior.

"Hummel, if my involvement Operation Desert Storm taught me anything, it's not to show emotion. But I need you to get out. We're releasing a special afternoon issue and your story's the cover. Now leave, I have a ridiculous amount of phone calls to make."

Kurt beamed and bolted out of his editor's office. He may have been a bit dramatic back there (blame it on his history in show choir and fondness for musical theatre) but Kurt needed to get his point across. Kurt Hummel was never going back to writing obituaries, Kurt Hummel was going to win Pulitzers (_note the plural_). By the time he reached his desk, Kurt had finished "Rose's Turn" and moved on to "Some People".

"You're in a good mood," Blaine observed.

"Mhmm," Kurt hummed in reply.

Kurt carried on a conversation with Blaine half-heartedly for the next ten minutes or so. He had perfected the art of knowing when to "mhmm" in agreement when talking to Blaine, allowing him to zone out and think about something completely different while appearing to be listening to his rambling. Kurt was in the middle of brainstorming possible outfits for tonight when he heard Blaine say "_Really_? Neat! I'll pick you up tomorrow at eight!"

_Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck. _

0-0-0

"I think I accidentally agreed to go on a date with Blaine Anderson."

Mercedes and Tina erupted into laughter. Really loud, obnoxious laughter. So loud and obnoxious that Kurt was pretty sure that people could hear them on the street below.

"It's not funny!" Kurt pouted.

"You're right," Mercedes gasped in between giggles. "It's _hilarious_!"

"How do you even do something like that?" Tina questioned, out of breath from laughing as well.

"Well he was rambling on like usual, and I wasn't paying enough attention and the next thing I knew he told me he'd pick me up at eight tomorrow," Kurt recounted. "What am I going to do?"

"You're going to go on the date," Mercedes told him unsympathetically. "You made your bed, now you have to lay in it."

Kurt cast a desperate glance at Tina, but she shook her head. "No, Mercedes's is right. Besides, it's just one date."

"But it's one date with _Blaine Anderson_!" Kurt protested. "Do you know how much he talks? That's like three dates with a normal person!"

Tina snickered. "That's true. Ciggy?"

"No thanks. I'm trying to cut back," Kurt informed her. Tina and Mercedes gaped at him, then at each other, and then back at Kurt.

"Okay, what's his name?" Mercedes demanded.

"What are you talking about?" he questioned, trying to keep his tone from betraying any emotion.

"Kurt, you have never refused a cigarette from _anyone_, and that includes a homeless man…"

"That was _one_ time!"

"…so if you're not smoking, it must mean there's a guy involved," Tina finished.

"I resent that," Kurt scoffed. "Maybe I'm cutting back because of the various threats smoking poses to one's health, or how expensive they're getting, or—"

"You realize we aren't buying a single word of that, right?" Mercedes interjected.

Kurt sighed. "Okay, it's a guy."

Tina squealed. "What's his name! What's he like? Where'd you meet him?"

Kurt hesitated. Superman had trusted him. He couldn't go blabbing about his homosexuality to the two biggest gossips in Metropolis. Kurt did his best to censor the story on the spot, "You don't know him. I met him at…a bar after I finished working on my story with Blaine. He's not out of the closet, so I don't want to say too much—"

"Wait," Mercedes interrupted him. "He's still in the closet?"

"Yeah," Kurt replied. "But…we did kiss last night, so—"

"_Kurt_!" Tina shrieked. "That's great! It's about time you got a boyfriend!"

"Well, I think boyfriend might be a little forward," Kurt confessed. He honestly had no idea what he and Superman were, but hopefully they'd settle that tonight. "But, I'm seeing him again tonight."

"Wonderful!" Tina said. "Now we can triple date!"

"Yeah," Mercedes agreed. "I'm so happy you found someone."

Kurt shrugged his shoulders, trying to remain as nonchalant as possible since he'd been here a million times before. He liked a guy, the guy reciprocated (or Kurt misconstrued his actions to make it look like he reciprocated), and then things didn't work out and Kurt spent the following weekend stranded on the couch eating ice cream and watching_ Ten Things I Hate About You_. This time he had to be extra careful, Kurt hadn't fallen for someone so hard since his misguided crush on his future step-brother back in high school. Though it was probably going to be a futile effort, Kurt had to at least try to play it cool with Superman. "Now if I could only decide on what to wear."

0-0-0

Three hours and fifty-five minutes later, Kurt still hadn't decided on what to wear. Clothing was strewn all over Kurt's bedroom in addition to the hair and skin products scattered across his bathroom counter as evidence of his indecision. Kurt surveyed himself in the mirror; he was on outfit option number sixteen and hair style number four. His current ensemble consisted of his McQueen powder blue half-sleeve dress shirt, paired with a white and navy striped tie (also McQueen), white skinny jeans, a thin beige belt, and his silver tongue low sneakers.

_I look stupid, I need to change _had been Kurt's consensus on about every outfit he tried on, and although this one had been marginally better than the last fifteen, it still wasn't right. He was just about to return to the recesses of his closet when he heard a knocking on the door.

Kurt froze. _This is it. _He had been so immersed in picking out an outfit that he had lost sight of what he was actually getting ready _for_—a date with Superman. Because Superman was _gay_. Kurt took a few cleansing, calming breaths before leaving the comfort of his bedroom. He crossed the living room to the French doors that led to the small balcony attached to Kurt's apartment. Superman was there waiting as Kurt opened the door.

"Hi," he breathed, his eyes roaming over Superman's compact and muscular form. Looking at the body would never get old.

"Hello," Superman grinned. "Nice place."

"Oh, thank you," Kurt replied, suddenly feeling awkward. _Should I invite him in? No, would that look too forward?_ "Would you like to come in? I have some wine…"

"No, thanks. I don't drink and fly," Superman told him.

"I'm sorry," Kurt apologized. "I wasn't think—"

"It's okay," Superman assured him. "I was joking."

"Oh right," Kurt responded. He despised how as soon as he was in Superman's presence Kurt turned into a bumbling idiot.

Superman smiled at him, but there was something different about this smile. The amusement and aloofness was still there, yet now there was something else. It looked a lot like lust to Kurt, but he was still wary to label it as such.

"I don't have much time, but I was wondering" the hero began, taking a step closer to Kurt. "If you wanted to take a ride with me."

Kurt's mind instantly fogged up with inappropriate thoughts at the potential double entendre in addition to Superman's proximity to his body. He swallowed audibly and shook the naughty thoughts out of his head. "You mean flying?"

"Only if you want to," Superman told him, locking gazes with Kurt. "I know the last time you did, it was a rather traumatic experience."

"No, that's okay…I want to." Kurt said. "Should I go get a sweater or something?"

"I don't think that'll be necessary, I'll keep you warm," chuckled Superman, stepping behind Kurt and wrapping an arm securely around his waist while the other came to rest of Kurt's shoulder. "Are you ready?"

"Uh-huh." Kurt blamed his lack of speech abilities on the fact that Superman was pressing firmly into his back.

He felt Superman bend behind him and then watched his feet lift off the ground. Kurt's breath hitched at the sight, and he felt Superman's grip around him tighten in response. They rotated so their bodies were parallel to the streets below them and proceeded forward at brisk pace.

Flying was even more exhilarating than Kurt had remembered, but that was probably because he wasn't preoccupied with almost dying this time and could fully appreciate the experience. He reveled in the weightless feeling, the way the night breeze tickled his face, and having Superman pressed up against him certainly didn't suck. Kurt looked down and noticed that they were passing over the arch in Washington Square Park. He tried to sneak a glance at Superman, but when he subtly tried to peer over at him, he saw that Superman was doing the same to Kurt.

Kurt immediately blushed and teased, "Eyes on the road."

Superman laughed but complied. Kurt wondered if he could hear how fast his heart was beating. He looked down again and noticed that they were flying over Chinatown, heading for the Financial District.

"This is amazing," Kurt told him, glancing over at Superman again. It truly was. How many people dreamed of flying? And Kurt actually got to do it…well, he had a little help.

"I'm glad you're enjoying it," Superman smiled back.

Kurt observed that they were heading for the river. "Where are we going exactly?"

"The Statue of Liberty."

"Of course," Kurt laughed. "Truth, justice, and the American way."

Suddenly they stopped, Kurt and Superman hovering hundreds of feet over the edge of Metropolis. Superman shifted them into a standing position, keeping Kurt flush against his chest, his eyes full of concern.

"We don't have to," he said tenderly, and for the first time, Superman seemed unsure. "We can go somewhere else."

Kurt took a few moments to respond, he had temporarily lost himself in the intense gaze of his hazel eyes as well as the warmth and security of Superman's grasp. _This is really happening_, he thought to himself, _Superman is taking you on a romantic flight over Metropolis…and you're making fun of him_. Acting completely on impulse, Kurt closed the distance between their lips. He couldn't help but sigh into the liplock, kissing Superman was just as wonderful as he remembered, and Kurt felt the hero's hold on his waist tighten as he attempted to pull them impossibly closer to each other.

After a few more moments of relatively chaste kissing (still no tongue), Superman reluctantly pulled away, a look of surprise, satisfaction, and confusion playing on his striking features.

"I want to do whatever you want to do," Kurt said, a little out of breath from the kiss.

Superman broke into a grin that was unmistakably colored with lust. "Careful there, Kurt, I don't think you know what you're getting yourself into with a statement like that."

"Well, Superman," Kurt crooned in reply, his hands sliding beginning to trace the curve the hero's biceps. "I think I know _exactly _what I'm getting myself into with a statement like th—"

Kurt's attempt at being sexy was disturbed by a yelp as he was pulled back into a horizontal position and felt himself hurtling forward into the night. Kurt watched as the myriad of streets and lights below him turned into cool, black water as Superman propelled them forward away from the city. They stopped a couple minutes later when they reached the iconic monument, both men studying it in silence.

Superman was the first to speak. "I know this isn't the most exciting place I could have taken you, but I can't help but feel a sort of connection with her. She's from a foreign land like I am and she still…she is this beacon of freedom, liberty, and _hope_. I know people aren't as proud as America as they used to be, but I can't help but feel patriotic whenever I see her. One day, well, I just hope that one day I can be a symbol of democracy like she is."

"You will," Kurt replied confidently. Superman gave him a tentative glance. "_You will_. And this is coming from a very jaded journalist."

"Well if you say so," he murmured, their lips drifting together once again.

_I could definitely get used to this, _Kurt mused as his lips moved in synchronization with Superman's. He had mustered up enough to courage to begin to poke his tongue out when Superman broke the kiss again.

"Kurt," he purred, their lips still dangerously close together. "What's your stance on rollercoasters?"

Kurt's brow wrinkled in confusion. _That's a rather odd thing to ask someone after you kiss them. Ugh, don't tell me it's the opener to a god-awful pickup line. _"I'm a fan."

"Then you'll be okay if I do this."

"Do wha—"

The couple rapidly plummeted hundreds of feet towards the river, Kurt slammed his eyes shut, preparing himself for the ice-cold splash, but it never came. He opened one eye warily, and noticed that he was hovering about three feet over the river. He exhaled in relief and then glimpse sideways at a smirking Superman.

"Jeez, why do you keep doing that?" Kurt demanded, his tone exasperated but still playful.

Superman shrugged. "It's fun. I like getting a rise out of you."

_Ignore the double entendre, ignore the double entendre, _Kurt chanted to himself. For someone who was so keen on romance, Kurt was finding his mind in the gutter increasingly often since he began spending time with Superman. They were beginning to head back to city and Kurt could barely believe the reflection the glassy water created. There he was, nestled in Superman's grip, his hair windswept and his lips betraying the slightest bit of swelling, with a look on his face that even Kurt didn't recognize on himself. He looked…_happy_. And not just "bought a new scarf" happy or even "cover story" happy—the kind of happiness that was only happened when you were in…

_No, _Kurt stopped himself. _There's no way I'm in…that. _He reached out his hand, allowing a fingertip to skim along the water's surface in an effort to distract himself from his dangerous thoughts.

Before he knew it, Superman was lowering the pair back down onto Kurt's balcony, but they were both reluctant to let each other go.

"Th-thanks for the ride," Kurt mumbled, unable to tear his gaze away from Superman's lips.

"Anytime," he breathed in reply, surging forward and capturing Kurt's mouth in a languid kiss. The reporter responded eagerly, pressing himself closer into the warmth of Superman's body. Kurt felt Superman lick the line where Kurt's lips met, clearly a request for entrance, and Kurt parted his lips readily. _Finally, _he remarked inwardly as Superman's tongue slipped into his mouth, unable to contain the satisfied moan made consequently. Kurt engaged his tongue with Superman's in a lazy dance, his hands fiddling with the hair at the base of Superman's neck while the hero rubbed little circles into each of Kurt's hipbones with his thumbs.

It had been so long since Kurt had _just_ kissed someone. Usually the guys he "dated" used kissing as a way to distract Kurt from protesting when they went in for an ass-grab. And as much as Kurt wanted to do the same to Superman (_because his butt was probably just as perfect as the rest of him_), he resisted. He'd actually found a guy who was a gentlemen, and Kurt didn't want to mess this up.

Their kissing had become progressively more heated, but Superman suddenly broke the delicious suction and jumped back like Kurt had shocked him with his tongue.

"I have to go," he told Kurt, his pained expression conflicting with the steadfastness of his words.

"But, I..." Kurt wanted to pout. He wanted to gripe and throw a fit and if necessary, he was ready to beg. Of course, he couldn't. Because yelling _No! Don't go rescue people, just stay here with me _wouldn't exactly paint a flattering picture of himself. "Will I see you again?"

That peculiar, amused smile that always vexed Kurt appeared on Superman's lips. "Before you know it."

**A/N: So I hope that lived up to everyone's expectations. I know the Statue of Liberty was kind of cheesy and patriotic, but Superman and Lois fly by it in Superman: The Movie, and I thought Blaine might have wanted to explain himself and open up to Kurt. Next chapter we meet Jor-El and Superman meets Karofsky! I know a lot of you guys are wondering when he and Kurt are going to encounter each other, and I promise that'll happen, but it's going to be a little while. We have some major Klaine-ing to do first!**

**Hearts and Stars,**

**youngandobsessed**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: ONE HUNDRED REVIEWS (thanks to Mysterious Person 101 for the win)! SQUEEEEEEE! *does a victory lap*. Thank you all so much for the amazing support for this story, I couldn't do it without you! So quite a few of you have been asking about Blaine's thoughts on what's happening, which is actually kind of what this chapter is about. Happy reading! **

Chapter 8

"You enjoyed it." It wasn't a question. It was an accusation.

"Father," Blaine shifted uncomfortably (and it wasn't because he was in the middle of the artic) as he faltered to come up with an explanation. He knew Jor-El wasn't going to be pleased with his budding romance with Kurt, but Blaine couldn't resist him. How was he supposed to explain that to the spirit of his dead biological father? "I don't know what to say. I guess I just got…carried away."

Jor-El's disembodied voice rang out clearly within the massive ice fortress. "I anticipated this, my son, I…"

"You couldn't have!" Blaine interrupted the elder Kryptonian, a rare occurrence. "You couldn't have _imagined_…"

"How good it felt?" Jor-El finished his son's thought. His tone was gentler than Blaine had expected, it was a precarious blend of displeasure and parental understanding.

"How good it felt…" Blaine echoed, recalling how it had felt kissing Kurt last night, a small fond smile playing on his lips. He quickly realized where he was and who was speaking with, and the swell of happiness was immediately replaced with shame.

"Do not punish yourself for your feelings of vanity, Kal-El, simply learn to control them," Jor-El began. "It is an affliction common to all, even here on Krypton. Our destruction could have been avoided but for the vanity of some who considered us indestructible. Were it not for vanity, why, at this very moment, I could embrace you in my arms, my son."

"Thank you, Father," Blaine replied, feeling his father's presence fade. He heaved a sigh and began the flight back to Metropolis. He went slower than usual since his mind was riddled in thought.

Maybe it would have been better if have Jor-El had actually reprimanded him like Blaine had predicted, because he couldn't imagine feeling any worse than this. Jor-El had basically told Blaine that feelings he was experiencing would be his downfall, these feelings had destroyed Krypton and killed his parents, that these feelings were _wrong. _Even though he respected his father greatly and was an obedient son, Blaine couldn't bring himself to agree with him on this matter. Because if what he felt for Kurt was wrong, Blaine didn't want to be right. How could it be wrong to want to protect someone, to shower them with your affection…he could understand how wanting to screw their brains out could be seen as reprehensible, but since when did being Superman require a vow of chastity? _I don't even sleep around! I just want Kurt, _he negotiated with himself, _you think after everything I do—_Blaine stopped himself realizing that he had just proven Jor-El's point with his egocentric thoughts. _Besides, who am I really kidding? Jor-El is always right_, Blaine rebuked himself. His high school and college years had proven it. Blaine knew what he needed to do. He had to scrap his plan of romancing Kurt in Blaine-mode tonight. He certainly wasn't going to stand him up, but the evening could most definitely _not_ end like it had last night. He'd figured that he would stop by Kurt's later that week as Superman to break it off. _This is going to suck, _Blaine concluded as the Metropolis skyline came into view.

Blaine had a busy day ahead of him, since he was "taking the night off," Blaine was going to try to do everything he could before he picked Kurt up at eight. The afternoon passed without any major incident, and Blaine was on his way back to his apartment on the Upper West Side to get ready for his date when a high pitched piercing noise ripped through his ears. He halted mid-air and held his ears in an ineffective attempt to make the screeching stop.

_This is Lex Luthor._

Blaine removed his hands from his ears at the introduction of the voice amidst the stridency.

_I'm going to venture a guess and assume that you're the only living being with two legs that can hear this frequency. In approximately ten minutes, a poison gas pellet containing propane lithium compound will be released through thousands of air ducts in the city, effectively annihilating half the population of Metropolis. _

Within a fraction of a second, Blaine was racing across the river, locating the source of the sound as Luthor continued his monologue.

_I know it seems a bit much, but how else was I going to meet you, Superman? A disaster with people in danger, people who need help, is something I knew you just couldn't resist. Know what I mean?_

The anger and disgust at Luthor's words only propelled Blaine faster to the abandoned warehouse just across the river where he had pinpointed the sound's origin. He smashed through the heavy steel doors, scanning the structure with his x-ray vision in search of where the explosives were being kept. The bomb was straight ahead, and Blaine would have to pass through three large chambers to reach it. He also noticed the various cameras mounted throughout the warehouse.

0-0-0

"Look at that overgrown Boy Scout, Santana," Dave sneered at the large screen in his home theatre. Gathered there with him apart from his trusty beard were a handful of his henchmen who eager to see the show that Dave had promised them: the obliteration of Superman. "Tell me what you see."

"Hazel eyes. Tan skin. Full lips. Strong jawline. Dimples," Santana replied with a devious smirk.

"Wait," Jacob interrupted, shoving a handful of popcorn in his mouth. "Why did you say your name was _Lex_ Luthor?"

Azimio smacked him over the head. "Because _Lex_ is way more intimidating and badass than stupid old Dave, Israel. You really are dumb as shit, aren't you?'

"Look who's talking," Jacob fired back.

"Don't make me whip your bony Jewish ass!" The larger man threatened.

"Boys, now is not the time for petty arguing," Dave cut them off, his voice calm but imposing. "If you must know, Lex is my middle name, well Alexander is anyway. But enough etymology, back to the main event. Now Santana, you said you saw a strong jawline, dimples. I'll show you dimples."

Dave's audience watched in horror as several machine guns from every side of the room opened fire on Superman. Their horror transformed into shock when they observed that the bullets weren't harming Superman at all, the bits of metal were bouncing off of the man as she proceeded through the chamber, completely unscathed.

While the other spectators were in total awe, Dave simply said "I thought that might happen." The cameras' images changed to show interior of the second chamber, which Superman was now entering. "Let's see if our friend can handle the heat."

No sooner had the words left Dave's mouth when the chamber burst into a fiery inferno. Superman seemed to be enveloped in the wall of flames, and Santana couldn't help but avert her gaze from the screen. Once the blaze ceased, Dave and Company were expecting the Kryptonian to be reduced to a pile of ash.

"Holy Mother of—"

"What the _fuck_?"

"His _suit_ isn't even damaged."

"Dave, I think we have a problem."

Luthor glared down at his minions, the frustration and defeat starting to boil within him. "No we don't." he gritted out. "There's still one more chamber before the gas pellet."

The cameras switched settings again to show Superman standing in the third chamber.

"Oh my God, he actually looks _bored_," cackled Santana.

"We'll see about that," muttered Dave.

Everyone watched intently as a deadly blizzard suddenly swirled around the space while Superman continued to stand there, unimpressed.

"The temperature in there is 80 degrees below zero Fahrenheit. Not even an eskimo could survive in that kind of cold," Dave boasted.

And for a moment, it seemed to be doing the trick. A layer of frost was forming around Superman's body, and it was thickening quickly, sealing the hero into a dense block of ice as the whiteout came to an end.

The room was silent as they stared at the screen.

"He's not moving."

"Do you think he's dead?"

"He's frozen in there like a caveman or something."

"Oh, you mean one of your brothers?"

"Hey, shut the—"

Azimio's retaliation was drowned out by a large crack that came from the screen. Each person in the room had an identical look of disbelief as they watched Superman split open the ice and advance onto the final chamber with a roll of his eyes and an exasperated sigh.

"I-I can't believe it," Jacob choked out.

Superman deftly dismantled the contraption that would have released the noxious chemical and incinerated the pieces with his vision in a matter of seconds. He turned and addressed one of the cameras.

"I beat you at your own game, Luthor." Superman's already authoritative voice became more intimidating as it echoed throughout the warehouse. "I advise you not to try for a rematch."

He sprung into the air, blasting a hole through the roof of the warehouse. The camera feed ended and the screen was filled with static.

Jacob was the first to break the stunned silence. "Wow, he really kicked your ass."

Santana glared at Jacob. "You really don't know when to shut up, do you?"

"Get out. All of you," Dave ordered.

No one had to be told twice. However, Santana lingered. The Latina waited for David's temper to explode, but the billionaire was eerily calm. She approached him warily.

"Dave, you alright? I know that didn't exactly go as planned…"

"Now we know we're up against," Dave told her simply. Santana was honestly a little frightened by his serene demeanor, especially since in the eleven years she had known him, Dave had pitched some pretty legendary fits. "This experiment today just means I'll have to stick with my original plan."

"He's…_invincible_," said Santana, fully aware that her words could set off her keeper's temper, but she was too concerned about Dave to care. "How are you supposed to beat someone who's invincible?"

"That's where you're wrong Santana," Dave objected. "You and I both know that Superman can't be in two places at once. We just need to find a sufficient distraction for E.T. while we execute the California operation."

**A/N: So there you have it, it's short and fillery again, I know. I made Jor-El more like the one in the movie here since he's kind of a major douche on Smallville. I hope you enjoyed the Blaine-angst for those who wanted inside his head, and I think I love writing Karofsky's crew almost as much as I love writing Kurt and Sue scenes! Next chapter is the date! Since you all are so lovely and wonderful, here's a little preview of what's to come:**

"I-I got you flowers," said Blaine, holding out a bouquet that Kurt hadn't noticed before. "I hope you like calla lilies."

Kurt stared at him incredulously.

Blaine interpreted his expression as one of aversion. "Oh no, you don't like them! I'm sorry, I just thought roses were kind of trite, and carnations are tacky and I'll buy you another bouquet if you want—"

"Blaine! Just shut…be quiet. Calla lilies are…my favorite, actually. I was just surprised you got them, that's all," Kurt explained.

Blaine exhaled a dramatic sigh of relief. "Oh, well, lucky guess, I suppose," he shrugged his shoulders and adjusted his glasses. "So, I guess we should get going then, I'd hate for us to be late for our reservations."

"Right," Kurt replied, taking the flowers from Blaine. "I'll put these in some water and we can go."


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: So it's going on two-thirty in the morning and I have to be at work at eight but I stayed up to finish this chapter because I love you all too much not to. This chapter is three times longer than all the other ones and I'm too tired to proof it. Now, what you've all been waiting for…the date…**

Chapter 9

Blaine was late. Although Kurt was a little surprised, not to mention a little pissed, he was most of all thankful, because that meant he didn't have to hang up on his father.

"…I just want you know to know how proud we are of you, son. Carole's already bought a frame for the article. I can't wait to brag to the guys down at Dino's that _my_ boy's the one who got the big Superman story."

Kurt couldn't help but blush a little. "Thanks, Dad, but enough about me. How are you? I'm worried about your health, Dad. Carole said that your doctor's appointment last week wasn't your best. She said the doctor told you to cut down on your stress. Dad, I think it's time you retired."

"Kurt, how many times do I have to tell you? I'm fine. Your stepmother and that quack doctor are paranoid. I have put my life into that shop, Kurt, I'm not ready to hand it over to Finn yet," his father argued.

"While I understand the hesitancy to trust Finn with anything, let alone the product of thirty years' worth of your blood, sweat, and tears, you should at least dial back the hours you spend there, Dad, or maybe stick to the office."

"Tell you what," Burt began. "I'll cut back on my workaholic tendencies when cut back on yours and visit home again."

"_Dad_," Kurt whined. "That's not fair. I didn't have a heart attack and with things so crazy at work now that's Superman in the picture, the earliest I _might_ be able to get back to Ohio is at the end of the summer."

"Well then, there you have it," Burt remarked.

"Ugh, I'm not arguing with you anymore, Dad," Kurt declared, opting for a change of subject before things got too heated, "How's Finn?"

"Oh you know, he's hanging in."

"Fighting with Quinn again, I assume?"

"It seems that's all those two do nowadays," Burt sighed. "Especially with that pregnancy scare they had a while ago. I tell ya, for a girl as pretty as Quinn, she can sure yell."

Kurt snorted. "Well, if her reign as head cheerleader at McKinley is any indicator, I can only imagine how ugly things have gotten."

"You know, I'm glad Finn hasn't proposed," Burt divulged. "In all honesty, I don't think they're going to make it."

"Oh Dad, it's just the Finn-Quinn relationship cycle. I've watched it since high school. They'll be all over each other again in no time flat."

"Whatever you say, Kurt," Burt conceded. "What's a handsome, successful guy like yourself in that big city doing tonight to celebrate your big story?"

"I was going to go out for drinks with Mercedes, Sam, Tina, and Mike, but I'd already made plans with some guy from work," Kurt told his father. He checked the time on the TV, ten after eight. Blaine was crossing into rude territory.

"Oh, is this guy you're…um…"

"_No_," Kurt quickly answered. "I'm really only going out with him as a pity-date."

"Well, either way, I hope you have a good time. I'm glad you're not holing up in your apartment and working like you always do."

"Dad, I don't _always_ do that," Kurt contended. He had gone clubbing…Kurt stopped to think…two months ago? "But I'm not sure if this date will be any better than a night of Anderson Cooper 360 and researching."

"Just remember, Kurt, you matter," his father reminded him. _It's like I'm still in high school, _Kurt scoffed. "Um, son? The game's on and…"

"Talk to you later, Dad," Kurt said, getting the hint.

"Love you, son," Burt told his son earnestly.

"You too, Dad," he replied with equal sincerity. Kurt hung up and checked his appearance in the mirror. He'd had a decidedly less difficult time picking out an outfit for tonight's date and Kurt hadn't done anything special with his hair. He flopped down on the couch and drummed his fingers absently on the arm of the couch.

A few minutes later, the doorman buzzed to notify that Blaine had made it. Kurt gave Frank the okay to send him up, and a couple more minutes passed before Kurt heard the frantic knocking on his door that signaled Blaine's arrival. He opened it to reveal a very out-of-breath Blaine, who was hunched over, hands bracing his knees.

"Kurt," he panted. "I am _so sorry_. There was traffic…the West Side highway was a nightmare…and I ended up running the last couple of blocks…guess I'm more out of shape than I thought and, I am so sorry—"

"Blaine," Kurt cut him off. "It's okay, seriously. No need to give yourself a heart attack."

"I-I got you flowers," said Blaine, holding out a bouquet that Kurt hadn't noticed before. "I hope you like calla lilies."

Kurt stared at him incredulously.

Blaine interpreted his expression as one of aversion. "Oh no, you don't like them! I'm sorry, I just thought roses were kind of trite, and carnations are tacky and I'll buy you another bouquet if you want—"

"Blaine! Just shut…be quiet. Calla lilies are…my favorite, actually. I was just surprised you got them, that's all," Kurt explained.

Blaine exhaled a dramatic sigh of relief. "Oh, well, lucky guess, I suppose," he shrugged his shoulders and adjusted his glasses. "So, I guess we should get going then, I'd hate for us to be late for our reservations."

"Right," Kurt replied, taking the flowers from Blaine. "I'll put these in some water and we can go."

Blaine chuckled to himself and allowed his nerdy façade to drop momentarily while Kurt was in the kitchen tending to the flowers. He removed his glasses to clean them with the hem of his shirt, and considered leaving them off when Kurt returned and just telling him the truth.

"Kurt, I…" he began, his voice in its normal register, not the slightly higher and more nasally one Blaine used at The Daily Planet. But as soon as Kurt turned the corner and came back into view, Blaine shoved his glasses back onto his face and switched his tone, "…I-I um, think that you look very nice…I like your outfit."

"Thanks, Blaine," answered Kurt. "You clean up pretty nicely yourself."

It was true. Blaine was dressed in a navy blue dress shirt that actually seemed to be ironed for once, paired with simple black dress pants and belt. The ensemble subtly showed off the figure Kurt didn't know Blaine had, his body was always concealed in those bulky blazers and ill-fitting slacks at work. His hair was as wild as ever, but if Blaine maybe used a good product his curls would look rather becoming, and of course he was wearing his trusty over-sized glasses, but if he swapped them with slimmer square-framed ones or contacts, Blaine would actually look _good_. Kurt frowned in surprise and confusion at the thought. _Blaine…attractive…_what_? _Kurt shook his head to clear the troubling notion from his mind.

Frank had a cab waiting for them when they reached the lobby of Kurt's building. Both men thanked the doorman, and Blaine held the door for Kurt.

"Where to?" the driver asked, his voice tinged with a foreign accent like every cabbie in Metropolis.

"155 West 51st Street, between 6th and 7th," Blaine told the driver.

Kurt's eyebrows shot upward in surprise, the location Blaine just recited was in a conspicuously nice area of the city. "Where exactly are we going?"

"Le Bernadin," Blaine replied. Kurt's eyes bulged a tad in surprise. Le Bernadin was one of the top French restaurants in Metropolis. Blaine chuckled in a manner that was strangely familiar and said, "You didn't really strike me as the kind of guy that'd want to grab a burger."

"Yeah, um, you're right about that," Kurt stuttered out in reply. Blaine was becoming more and more baffling by the second.

Silence (apart from the cab driver jabbering in his native tongue on his Bluetooth) permeated the taxi for a few moments before Blaine asked Kurt, "So…have you been enjoying your weekend?"

"I guess so. I spent the day looking into a few sources for the explosion story and did a little more research into the missile robbery, but it was pretty uneventful."

"Jiminy Crickets, Kurt! You sure work hard!" marveled Blaine.

"Yeah well, they don't give Pulitzers to just anyone," Kurt responded before he could catch himself. Being bitchy to Blaine had kind of become a reflex at this point, but now since Blaine was taking him to the sixth most expensive restaurant in Metropolis, Kurt was going to having to ease up on the snide comments. "Um, how has your Saturday been?"

"Oh, pretty boring. I just ran some errands," Blaine told him nonchalantly.

They had reached the restaurant by that point, Blaine insisting to the pay the cab fare, and then escorting Kurt inside. They were speedily seated by a leggy hostess whose once-over of Blaine's backside was not missed by Kurt (_what_ was _it with women and Blaine's butt?_). The hostess's leer caused something unpleasant to twist and tighten in Kurt's chest and before he knew it, he was shooting her his patented "back off, bitch" glare. Not that Kurt had ever really used it for a guy before, usually he only whipped it out when he was shopping at sample sales or someone was trying to take his spot in Yoga class. Nevertheless, the woman seemed to get the message, and didn't linger in giving the men their menus before skedaddling back to her podium.

Blaine's voice brought Kurt back to the moment. "I know absolutely nothing about French cuisine, so I'm going to need your help with ordering." He was surveying the menu as if it had been written in hieroglyphics.

"Nothing?" _And you identify as homosexual?_

"Does seeing the movie _Julie/Julia_ count?"

Kurt burst out into laughter at the question and Blaine joined in shortly after. "Never fear, Blaine, I've got you covered."

Kurt gave Blaine a brief lesson on French food and they discussed the menu until their waiter, a polite elderly gentleman, arrived. Kurt ordered for the couple effortlessly, the French names of the meals tumbling from his lips so fluently that Blaine had to resist the urge to rest his chin in his hand and just unabashedly admire the man across from him. He wished he wasn't wearing the damn glasses and that he could lean across the table and kiss Kurt like he so badly wanted to, like he had last night. Luckily Kurt had asked him a question, a welcome distraction from his brewing frustration over his alter-ego situation. "Pardon?"

"I was wondering how long have you lived in Metropolis for?" Kurt reiterated his query.

"Not very long, I moved into my place right before I started at The Planet," Blaine answered. "What about you."

"Over ten years now, I went to school at Columbia," Kurt replied, trying to sound as casual and _not_-braggy as possible.

"C-Columbia, wow," Blaine said.

"Yeah, I didn't sleep for four years. What's your alma mater?"

"Ohio State," Blaine replied, sounding a tad inferior.

"Oh, that's a good school," Kurt encouraged. _Damn it, why do I always come off as a patronizing bitch?_

"My love for the Buckeyes aside, I um, couldn't go too far from home," explained Blaine.

"Why not?"

Blaine hesitated, debating whether he should tell Kurt the truth or not. He didn't want to look like he was playing the pity card, but Blaine loathed lying, and Kurt didn't deserve Blaine lying to his face any more than he already had. "My dad passed my senior year of high school and I felt terrible leaving my aging mother to look after the farm all by herself. Sorry, I didn't mean to depress you or anything."

"No, it's fine, Blaine, I understand. My…my mom died when I was eight."

"Oh Kurt, I'm so sorry! You were so young and—"

"Blaine, it's okay, it's not like it was your fault," Kurt assured him. He couldn't help but find it vaguely endearing how genuinely apologetic Blaine was. They exchanged a meaningful look that made Kurt shiver, and not shiver from revulsion or awkwardness, shiver from…something else.

"Um…did we just bond?" Blaine asked.

Kurt couldn't contain the bout of laughter that that statement triggered. "I uh, guess we did. May I propose a change to a less morbid subject?"

Blaine flashed his eye-scrunching smile. "Certainly."

They lapsed into conversation much more easily than Kurt would have expected. They traded crazy college anecdotes, shared favorites (movies, musicals, music, books), and reveled in the superior quality of the meal (some of Kurt's appreciative moans while he was sampling his food made Blaine thankful that the tastefully decorated table was obstructing the view of his nether regions). As dinner came to a close, Kurt sat in his seat surprised that what he had predicted to be a painful evening had actually turned out to be his best date ever. He wasn't sure how that had happened exactly, but somehow all of Blaine's little quirks had become…_cute_. _Am I really falling for _Blaine Anderson? Kurt mused as the waiter approached the table with their (undoubtedly astronomical) bill. _Or was the wine just really good?_

Kurt shifted himself to retrieve his wallet, but Blaine noticed and immediately stopped him. "Don't be silly, Kurt. I'm taking care of this."

"Blaine…"

"Kurt…"

"_Blaine!"_

"_Kurt!" _

"I really don't like to get bogged down in all that heteronormative stuff," Kurt insisted, trying to sound rational and mature.

"My mom would be mad at me if I didn't pay, Kurt," Blaine countered, sliding his credit card into the small leather folder.

"Well then, for Mrs. Anderson's sake," Kurt conceded.

"Thank you, Kurt," Blaine grinned and passed the check to the waiter.

"No, thank _you_, Blaine," Kurt urged. "Tonight was really nice."

"Do I detect a hint of surprise?" Blaine inquired.

"No! It's just…well, this is such a nice restaurant and…I mean, this_ is_ a first date and—"

Blaine held up his hand to stop Kurt's rambling like he did that afternoon when Kurt had flipped out at him over the smoking thing. "It's okay, Kurt. It's not like I have any illusions of how people see me at work…it's just—I really, _really_ care about you …and I didn't want to screw this up."

"Blaine," Kurt was overwhelmed by his date's sincerity. "This was the best date I've ever been on."

Blaine perked up infinitesimally. "Really? You mean that?"

"Absolutely." The confidence in Kurt's tone left no room for doubt. _And…there's the signature smile. _For once, Blaine's beam didn't make Kurt want throw up in his mouth a little, but rather it filled him with a pleasant satisfaction.

The waiter returned with Blaine's credit card, Blaine signed the check and calculated the tip before returning his attention to Kurt. "Let's push off, shall we?"

Kurt tried really hard not laugh at Blaine's awful phrasing, but was unsuccessful. He followed Blaine through the restaurant and back out onto the street. They had reached the most awkward part of the evening, where neither man was sure if they should just say good night, or offer to go get drinks, or if one was feeling extra bold, invite the other to their back to their apartment.

"Thanks for dinner, Blaine," Kurt began.

_Gosh, his lips look delicious…cut it out, Blaine! _Blaine tried to shake himself from his Kurt-induced haze. "You're welcome." _Say goodnight, Blaine, __**say goodnight**_...

"Hey Kurt?"

"Yes?" Blaine tried desperately to ignore the hint of hopefulness in his tone.

_Stop Blaine, just fix your glasses and say goodnight. Do not, under any circumstances, suggest you go get drinks—_

"There's, um, there's this bar that I like to go not too far from here…and I was wondering if maybe you, you know—"

"Sure."

Blaine's eyes snapped up from his loafers to meet Kurt's. "Really?"

"Why not? It's only—" Kurt checked his watch, "quarter after ten."

"Oh-okay, neat," Blaine grasped Kurt's hand and tugged the slightest amount. "Well, come on then, I'll show you the way."

Kurt didn't reply, but just blindly followed Blaine as he towed him down the city street, his eyes fixed on where his hand was intertwined with Blaine's. Much like everything else that happened tonight, holding hands with Blaine wasn't at all like Kurt had expected—not that Kurt had ever fantasized about what it would be like to hold hands with him—but if he had to have guessed, Kurt would expect that Blaine's hand would have been clammy and his grasp would have been limp like a wet noodle, but in reality his hand was soft and warm (but not sweaty) while his grip was strong without being bone-crushing. Kurt studied each storefront; he wondered where Blaine would stop, what kind of bar it would be. _Oh Gaga, I hope it's not some tacky gay bar because that would just be _awful_…_

"Here it is," announced Blaine.

Kurt gazed up and read the sign. _Oh no, this is _way_ worse than a tacky gay bar…_

Blaine sensed Kurt's distaste and instantly tried to convince him otherwise. "I um, I know this isn't what you were expecting…honestly, I think karaoke is pretty cheesy too, but it's just…my first day at The Planet you said you were in show choir back in high school too…so I guess I just thought this was something we would enjoy together."

_And we couldn't have enjoyed a Bailey's Irish Cream together in small, cozy café? _Kurt quipped inwardly, he wanted to voice his thought, but Blaine had been so nice to him and…"Okay, just don't expect me to sing or anything."

"No-no, of course not," Blaine promised. "We can just laugh at the drunk college students and tourists."

For a karaoke bar, Top Tunes was surprisingly upscale. The interior was entirely black with sleek, modern white accents and dim lighting that slowly changed colors. There was a stage at the end of the bar, where three obviously shit-faced college-aged girls were belting out a very off-key rendition of 's "Waiting for Tonight", and a few tables scattered to the right of the bar.

Kurt and Blaine sidled up to the bar, Blaine ordered a Heineken while Kurt stuck to water. There was no way in hell Kurt was going to be coaxed on stage with alcohol, he was perfectly content with mocking the sorority girls and whatever other idiots wanted to publicly humiliate themselves on that—

"I think I'm going to do one," Blaine whispered to him.

"What?" Kurt glanced at the stage and saw that The Musketeers were stumbling off the stage, all tripping over each other and cackling wildly. "No, Blaine, _don't_—"

But it was too late. Blaine was already heading up to the stage while Dumb, Dumber, and Dumbest collapsed at the bar to Kurt's left.

"MORE TEQUILA!" One slurred.

"Ladies, I think you've had enough," the bartender said. _Jeez, you know when the bartender at a freaking _karaoke bar_ cuts you off that you are beyond hammered. _

Kurt was pulled out of his reverie when the opening chords of the song Blaine had chosen began to drift through the speakers. He grimaced and rolled his eyes, because _really? You couldn't get more creative than Katy Perry? _Kurt was fully prepared to pretend not to know Blaine for the next three minutes or so but everything changed when Blaine began to sing.

Kurt could barely believe that this mellifluous voice belonged to Blaine. He quickly whipped his head from where he had been concentrating on his water glass to the stage. There was Blaine, completely at ease, doing a little side-step as he crooned the opening verse of "Teenage Dream". Kurt gawked at him in utter shock, his eyes wide as saucers and his mouth agape. _I mean, I know he mentioned that he was in an acapella group in high school and college, but _never_ in a million years did I ever think—_

Blaine pointed straight at Kurt on the "you" opened the first chorus. _Blaine is serenading me…Blaine fucking Anderson is fucking _serenading _me…and I'm _liking_ it. _Kurt's face split into the widest grin he could physically manage and bopped along to the beat, enjoying the performance. Blaine was side-stepping with more fervor now and Kurt's stomach flipped when he pivoted as he sang "_don't ever look back, don't ever look back". _Blaine was so immersed in performing and Kurt was immersed in watching Blaine perform that it felt like they were two people in the—

"OH MY GOD!"

"OH MY GOD, I KNOW!"

"HE IS SO _CUTE_!"

"I KNOW, I JUST WANT TO PINCH HIS CHEEKS!"

"I WANT TO PINCH HIS _ASS_ CHEEKS!"

"OH MY GOD, EVIE! YOU ARE SUCH A SLUT!"

_Well, almost. _But not even a trio of drunk college girls could detract from Kurt watching Blaine, who had moved on the second verse by now. He didn't seem to notice the girls either, all Blaine seemed capable of was doing little movements and gestures that made Kurt want to barf up his five-hundred dollar meal and stare at Kurt with a penetrating intensity as he suggested "_let's go all the way tonight_."

"I WOULD _SO_ GO ALL THE WAY WITH HIM!"

"ME TOO! I'D EVEN _PAY MONEY_ IF I HAD TO! A WHOLE SEMESTER'S WORTH OF MET U TUTION! THAT'S LIKE SIXTY THOUSANDS DOLLARS."

"UGH, I JUST WANT TO RIP OFF ALL OF HIS CLOTHES!"

"OH MY GOD! _OH MY GOD_! HE JUST POINTED AT ME! HE LOVES ME THE MOST!"

"SHUT UP, VICKY! HE LOVES _ME_ THE MOST!"

"NUH-UH!"

"YUH-HUH!"

"NUH-UH!"

Unfortunately, Blaine had reached the part of the song where it goes quiet for a few seconds, so Kurt could make out the girls' calling each other a dumb whore while the other retaliated with a scathing accusation that Vicky only passed Physics last semester because she slept with her TA.

As soon as Blaine belted out a very impressive "yeaaaaah", Kurt was fully engrossed in the song again. No one had ever sung him a love song before. Kurt rather liked it. He was pretty sure he could get used to people singing love songs to him, or maybe just Blaine Anderson.

The song was wrapping up now, Kurt almost fell off his seat when Blaine did this waggly thing with those glorious caterpillar eyebrows of his on the final "_Imma get your heart racing in my skin tight jeans_". Kurt wasn't sure about Blaine, but_ his_ heart was mostly certainly racing in his skin tight jeans (_okay, so they were technically trousers, but that was_ so_ beside the point)_.

The song ended and Blaine received several loud whoops from the Three Smashed Amigos and Kurt's frantic applause. He grinned widely and hopped off the stage and strode over to Kurt.

"So, what'd you think?" he asked in maddeningly nonchalant manner, as if he was asking Kurt if he preferred salmon to tuna.

Kurt was speechless. All he could think about was how close Blaine's lips were, his unexpectedly full lips, and how easy it would be to just lean in and—

"OH MY GOD!"

"OH MY GOD, YOU WERE _SO_ GOOD!"

"LIKE REALLY, _REALLY _GOOD!"

"YOU SHOULD BE ON AMERICAN IDOL…PAULA WOULD THINK YOU WERE SO HOT!"

"_NOELLE!_ PAULA'S NOT ON AMERICAN IDOL ANYMORE! DUH!"

The three screaming girls were the wakeup call Kurt needed to bring him back to reality. He needed to stop flipping out. Blaine had sung a song. True, he had sung it really well and looked really good while he was doing it, but Kurt needed to get his wits together. He knew he shouldn't have had so much wine back at Le Benardin. "It seems you have a fan club," he remarked.

Blaine laughed lightly. "Um, yeah." He addressed the girls. "Uh, thanks?"

"OH MY GOD, EVIE HE TALKED TO ME! WHAT SHOULD I DO?"

"WHATEVER YOU DO, DON'T ASK HIM TO HAVE SEX WITH YOU YET! YOU'LL LOOK DESPERATE!"

"DID I MENTION THAT YOU WERE REALLY GOOD?"

"YOU SHOULD TOTALLY SING ANOTHER SONG!"

"TOTALLY! YES! NOW!"

"DO YOU KNOW S&M BY RIHANNA?"

Kurt snorted a laugh at Noelle's song request and Blaine actually choked on his beer a little. Blaine looked at Kurt, who simple shrugged good-naturedly. "Don't want to disappoint your fans."

"YAY!"

"THANK YOU THANK YOU…WAIT, WHAT'S YOUR NAME?"

"Kurt," he told Vicky. "And that's Blaine."

"BLAAAAAAAAAINE! WE LOVE YOU BLAINE!"

"SING US ANOTHER SONG BLAINE!"

"PLEEEEEEEEEASE BLAINE! I'LL SHOW YOU MY BOOBS!"

"That, um, won't be necessary," Blaine spluttered. "I'll just go pick out another song." He winked at Kurt and left for the stage. _Why does this feel so familiar?_

Blaine's pick began to play, and Kurt quickly identified it as "I'm Not Going to Teach Your Boyfriend How to Dance with You". Blaine was significantly more confident now that he had a few groupies. He was dancing all over the place, goofing it up like only he could, jiving all over the place while holding the microphone and sliding his hands down the stand in an oddly arousing fashion.

"Oh Kurtsie," Vicky slurred, throwing an arm around him, her voice finally at a somewhat normal volume. "Isn't he the bestest?"

"Yeah," Kurt replied, not paying much attention to the drunk coed clinging to his shoulder, but studying Blaine reverently. "He is pretty wonderful."

He giggled along with the girls throughout the rest of the song, and Blaine was met with more cheers and applause when he finished. Blaine had barely returned to the bar before the girls were already demanding more.

"AGAIN AGAIN AGAIN!"

"COME ON BLAINEY! YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO!"

"Actually," Blaine countered, "I want to see Kurt do a song."

Kurt glared daggers at his date while the girls squealed in agreement.

"BLAINEY! WHAT A WONDERFUL IDEA!"

"COME ON KURTSIE! SING FOR US!"

"Girls…" Kurt began, knowing that his protests would be worthless.

"IT'S JUST ONE SONG KURTSIE!"

"I'LL SHOW YOU MY BOOBS!"

"Evie, no," But the girls was already hiking up her shirt. "Okay, okay! I'm going!"

Blaine watched as Kurt as he trudged up to the stage and began scanning through the karaoke machine for a song.

"So Blaine," Noelle said, trying to be seductive, but not having much success in her inebriated state. "I'm going to give you my phone number."

"That's very sweet, but I'm not on your team," Blaine told her gently.

"Not on my team? Listen Blaine, it's okay if you like the Jets, you're such a hot hottie that I'll—"

"That's not what I meant," Blaine interrupted her. "I'm gay."

"_WHAT?"_ She screeched. "NOT FAIR!"

"Wait," Evie had joined the conversation. "Is that why you ran away when I tried to show you my boobs?"

"Precisely," Blaine chuckled.

"_OOOOOOOOOH_, that makes more sense, I just thought you were one of those scared virgin types."

Kurt had made his selection by that point and the "Blackbird" began to play. Blaine immediately approved of the song choice, it was hard to go wrong with the Beatles, and turned to face Kurt fully.

Kurt started to sing and Blaine's breath caught in his throat. He sounded like an angel—Kurt sounded like an angel. Blaine gazed at Kurt with dreamy eyes and the slightest smile on his lips, mesmerized by his singing. He was just so expressive, so vulnerable, so honest…It was at that moment he knew, Blaine had fallen in love with Kurt Hummel.

"_You were only waiting for this moment to arrive."_

Noelle, Vicky, Evie, and Blaine didn't say anything until Kurt had returned to the bar. He regarded them with a bit of confusion, they had all gone crazy for Blaine, hadn't they?

"That bad, huh?"

"No no no no _NO_! Kurt, that was like _amazing_," Vicky raved.

"You took my soul to another place," added Evie. _Was she wiping her eyes?_

"_PLEASE _don't tell me you're gay too."

Kurt shrugged. "Guilty as charged."

"NOT FAIR!" Noelle wailed again. "I HATE GAY PEOPLE! I mean, I don't _hate_ gay people, but it's just not fair when they're so delicious like you two!"

Kurt ignored her and focused on Blaine instead, he hadn't said anything. "You okay, Blaine? I didn't bore you to death, did I?"

Blaine shuddered out of his thoughts and replied to Kurt. "_No_! No…that…th-that was really good, Kurt. It was nice…and stuff."

Kurt cocked an eyebrow at Blaine but chalked it up to Blaine just being his inarticulate self.

"OH MY GOD! GUYS! I JUST HAD LIKE THE BEST IDEA EVERRRRRRRR!" shrieked Vicky, bouncing up and down on her bar stool.

"What's that?" Kurt asked.

"You two should make out," Vicky said, deadly serious. "It would be like the hottest thing ever."

Both men flushed bright red and looked at their shoes.

"I, uh," Blaine coughed. "I don't think that would be…appropriate."

"Why not? I make out with other girls _all_ the time, and I'm not even a lesbian."

"How 'bout we sing another song?" Kurt proposed, desperate to change the subject and distract the girls. He grabbed Blaine and dragged him away from the trio, "Come on Blaine, let's sing them a song."

"Oh-okay," Blaine mumbled as Kurt brought him up to the stage.

They approached the machine and began to scan through the thousands of choices.

"Ooh! What about this one?" Blaine suggested.

"Cruisin'?" Kurt asked, his tone colored with disapproval.

"What, you don't like the song?"

"It's pretty sappy," Kurt admitted. "I did have a substitute teacher once back in high school that looked so much Gwyneth Paltrow it was a little unsettling however." Kurt scanned through the songs a little more. "Oh! What about this one?"

Blaine squinted a little through his glasses to read the title and artist. Once he did, he broke out into everyone's favorite dopey smile. "Yeah, I really like this one."

Kurt entered the two dollars for the song and joined Blaine over by the microphones. Just as the lyrics were going to start, Kurt nodded to Blaine, who nodded back in comprehension and sang the opening verse.

_Here we go again, I kind of wanna be more than friends_

_So take it easy on me, I'm afraid you're never satisfied. _

Then Blaine nodded to Kurt.

_Here we go again, we're sick like animals, we play pretend_

_You're just a cannibal and I'm afraid I won't get out alive._

_No, I won't sleep tonight. _

Blaine joined in for the chorus.

_Oh, oh I want some more_

_Oh, oh what are you waiting for? _

_Take a bite of my heart tonight._

_Oh, oh I want some more_

_Oh, oh what are you waiting for? _

_Say goodbye to my heart tonight._

Kurt took the opening of the second verse.

_Here we are again, I feel the chemicals kickin' in_

_It's getting heavy and I wanna run and hide, I wanna run and hide_

He relinquished the next part to Blaine, since he was starting to get uncomfortable in regard to how accurate the song was to describing his feelings about Blaine right about now.

_I do it every time, you're killin' me now_

_And I won't be denied by you, the animal inside of you_

_And apparently Blaine's feelings about me, _Kurt added in his head as he and Blaine began to sing the chorus yet again. 

_Oh, oh I want some more_

_Oh, oh what are you waiting for? _

_Take a bite of my heart tonight._

_Oh, oh I want some more_

_Oh, oh what are you waiting for? _

_Say goodbye to my heart tonight._

Kurt tried his best to power through the weirdness and just get through the next part.

_Hush, hush the world is quiet_

_Hush, hush we both can't fight it _

Blaine was doing his little sexy movements again and Kurt kind of wanted to punch him.

_It's us that made this mess_

_Why can't you understand? _

_Woah, I won't sleep tonight_

_I won't sleep tonight _

Kurt tried not to get sucked in by Blaine's goofy, sexy energy, but he couldn't help but join in on the silly dance moves during the instrumental break.

_Here we go again, here we go again_

_Oh, oh I want some more_

_Oh, oh what are you waiting for? _

_Take a bite of my heart tonight._

_Oh, oh I want some more_

_Oh, oh what are you waiting for? _

_Say goodbye to my heart tonight._

The song ended and Kurt and Blaine were left facing each other, panting with exhilaration, staring at each other's lips.

"GRAB HIS CROTCH!"

_Mood effectively ruined_, Blaine concluded as he turned away and descended the stairs.

"Are you _sure_ that you two don't want to kiss each other?" Vicky sing-songed. "It would be fuuuuuun!"

"Um yeah," Kurt answered, the awkwardness was nearly suffocating. "We actually have to go."

"We do?" Blaine questioned, totally oblivious as always.

Kurt elbowed his ribcage, not expecting the wall of his torso to be so solid. _What, does he have a steel plate under there?_ The shorter man got the message however. "Oh, yeah, um Kurt was going to give me interior design tips for my apartment…since you know I just moved in…well about two months ago actually…but I really haven't found the time to decorate and—"

"Yeah!" Kurt exclaimed, saving himself and the girls from Blaine's agonizing rambling. "It's been fun!"

"! YOU CAN'T LEAVE US! WE LOOOOOOVE YOOUUUUU!" Noelle sobbed as Blaine fished a ten-dollar bill and passed it to the bartender, telling him to keep the change.

"Sorry, girls," Blaine said, backing toward the door with Kurt. "Be careful getting home."

They stumbled out of the bar, laughing heartily into the night air.

"I should probably do it, you know," Kurt said once they had calmed down enough to take normal breaths.

"Do what?"

"Go to your apartment." Blaine's eyes seemed to pop out of his head. Kurt instantly covered for himself, "To give you design tips! Because I have really good taste and you're, no offense, you're kind of—"

"Hopeless?" Blaine completed Kurt's sentence.

Kurt blushed slightly. "Yeah, but I'm sure it's not that bad though."

"I'll let you be the judge of that," Blaine chuckled, strolling to the end of the street and trying to hail a cab. No cabs stopped.

"Here, let me," Kurt offered and then whistled loudly. A taxi pulled over to them immediately. Blaine gave him a sheepish smile.

They spent the car ride making fun of the Blaine and Kurt's groupies, giggling uncontrollably for nearly ten minutes straight. The cab pulled up to Blaine's building, a charming Brownstone on 72nd street, and Kurt managed to convince Blaine to let him pay the fare.

Blaine's apartment was modest, considerably smaller than Kurt's and was sparsely decorated, but Kurt didn't think it was _hopeless_ like Blaine had said. He gave the reporter a tour of the place (which only took about 3 minutes) that ended in the kitchen.

"What's the verdict?" Blaine inquired as he opened the refrigerator to procure them a couple bottles of water.

"It definitely has potential, oh, thank you," Kurt told him, accepting the water. "I'm thinking a color scheme with lots of blues and browns, to play up the fantastic crown molding this place has and…"

Kurt trailed off. He couldn't tear his eyes from Blaine's lips again. It was getting a little annoying, actually, Kurt knew he'd go crazy next week if he had to sit across from Blaine at work not knowing if those lips were as soft and full as they seemed to be. It'd just be a quick kiss, just so Kurt could get it out of his system, he was probably hyping it up too much anyway…

Kurt pressed his lips to Blaine's. Blaine made a small surprised noise in the back of his throat at the contact. His mouth was unresponsive, which Kurt took as a challenge, and moved to deepen the kiss, then Blaine at last began to reciprocate. His movements were so tentative and unsure, nothing like Superman's broad, confident—

_Superman_.

Kurt hadn't thought of the hero at all that night, since he hadn't really thought that Blaine was going to give him any competition whatsoever, but Kurt had assumed that before the fancy dinner, before Blaine's serenading, before their duet. He was torn. Blaine was sweet and endearing, and by no means a_ bad_ kisser, but it lacked the passion he shared with Superman. On the other hand, Kurt barely knew Superman. Sure, no one really knew Superman, and he knew him better than anyone else did, but was that enough? He did say that he'd see him again…

"I can't," Kurt gasped as he pulled his lips from Blaine's.

"Wh-what?" Blaine exhaled. "Kurt, what's wrong?"

"I can't do this Blaine," he elaborated. "I'm confused…there's som—I just can't give all of myself to you, Blaine…and you're such a nice guy, and don't get me wrong, I like you…more than I thought I was going to, actually, but—"

"Who is it?" Blaine asked, his voice taking on an imposing quality that Kurt had never heard before. It scared him a little.

"What?"

"Who's the other guy?"

Kurt didn't want to lie to Blaine, it would make him feel more awful than he already did, but he couldn't tell Blaine that the other guy was Superman. Blaine would send him to the loony bin in two seconds flat.

"You don't know him." _There. That wasn't a lie. _

"What's his name?" Blaine pressed.

Kurt squirmed. "Blaine, I don't want to—"

"I think I deserve to know," Blaine demanded. _When did Blaine become all intimidating? I didn't think he had an intimidating bone in his body._

"You won't believe me!" exclaimed Kurt "You're going to think I'm crazy!"

"Try me."

Their eyes locked in an intense stare down.

"Promise not to laugh?"

"Of course," Blaine replied, his tone softening again.

Kurt inhaled deeply. _I can't believe I'm actually going to tell him. I'm going to tell Blaine I have a thing with Superman. _

"Superman," Kurt confessed in a small voice, his eyes trained on the cheap tile of Blaine's kitchen floor.

"Oh Kurt," Blaine said, chuckling lightly. "Thank goodness."

"What?" Kurt snapped, whipping his head up to look at him. "_Thank goodness_? What the hell is that supposed to mean? And you're laughing! You said you wouldn't laugh!"

"Kurt," Blaine began his voice deeper than before, taking Kurt's hands into his. "There's something I need to tell you."

Kurt snatched his hands out of Blaine's grip. "And what would that be, exactly?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to say anything yet, but you look so conflicted, and after the kiss, I…I can't keep this from you anymore. Here, hold these."

Blaine passed Kurt his glasses and swiftly turned his back to Kurt before he could get a good look at him. Kurt heard the sink turn on, and his eyes, which had become unfocused and bleary from the heated turn the conversation had taken, discerned that Blaine was wetting his hands and then working them into his hair. Why Blaine was playing with his hair was beyond Kurt's comprehension. _Could this evening get anymore bizarre?_

"Okay," Blaine was beginning to pivot around to face Kurt again. "Try not to freak out…"

_Why would I freak out because you slicked down your…_

Kurt froze at the sight before him. He couldn't move a muscle from head to toe even if he wanted to. He had to remember how to breathe.

"You're…you're…"

"I am."

"What color is my underwear?"

"Grey."

Then the world went black.

**A/N: I hope you liked it! Unfortunately, the earliest I'll be able to update again is this weekend because there's a little thing called HARRY POTTER AND THE DEATHLY HALLOWS PART 2 tomorrow night and I will be in hysterics. But…I hope you liked it! Please leave me a review, it will help me bang out the next chapter quicker…and did I mention the next chapter will include smut? *mischievous grin***

**Hearts and Stars,**

**Youngandobsessed **


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: OVER 150 REVIEWS! I HAVE NO WORDS! Well, I do have words, but you've heard them all before you and there's only so many times you can say "thank you thank you THANK YOU" without getting annoying. Special thank you to animefreak1713 for review #150, latinaeveharrington for mentioning me in the AN of one of my fav stories When You Read My Mind (read it! Now! It's sexy! And funny!), and everyone who reviewed the last chapter because your excitement put me on Cloud 9. The beginning of this chapter was a bitch to write and the end rambles on a bit, but there's some smut in the middle so just ignore everything else!**

Chapter 10

_What happened? _was the first thought that circulated in Kurt's head as he came to. He could feel that he lying on something soft…like a bed. _Am I home? How did I get home?_

Kurt's eyes fluttered open. Immediately, he noted that the ceiling was not the creamy off-white shade like his bedroom. _Where am I then?_ He strained to remember what had happened before he passed out. _The date…I was with Blaine and—_

"Kurt? Oh good, you're awake. I'm sorry, I've really got to stop making you faint."

It all came rushing back to him. Kurt turned his head in the direction the voice came from. He saw Superman: the warm hazel eyes, the plump lips, the chiseled jaw, the dark parted hair. _But what was Superman doing in Blaine's apartment, and why was he wearing's Blaine's clothing? Oh, that's right, Blaine and Superman apparently were the same person now. _

Kurt blinked a few times, shook his head, and started to sit up. They needed to discuss this. Now. Kurt noted the locations were a camera crew and Ashton Kutcher might be hiding as Blaine shifted from where he was kneeling beside Kurt and joined him on the couch.

Kurt opened his mouth with something to say but closed it. "What should I call you?"

"Blaine's fine," he replied.

When he thought about it, it did explain a lot. Why Blaine could always hear Kurt whispering to himself under his breath, why he always took so long getting coffee sometimes or would take twenty minute bathroom breaks, why Superman had been so cryptic when asked about his "day job". "You're really Superman?"

"I am. I'm so sorry I told you like this, Kurt. I shouldn't have just sprung this on you, I wanted to wait…I was planning on doing this differently, but it wouldn't be fair to string you along, make you feel guilty. I'll tell you anything you want to know, Kurt."

"So this is the second time we've gone on a date this week?"

"Yes," Blaine answered, blush creeping into his cheeks. "I've been selfish."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Kurt thought back to last night and the night before on the roof of The Daily Planet. He suddenly felt incredibly stupid and frustrated at Blaine…Superman…whoever he was. "I feel like I've been duped. Is this some sort of game to you? To get back at me for how I treat you at The Planet?"

"_No,_ Kurt, not at all!" Blaine averred, moving to take Kurt's hands again, but thought better of it. "I _hated_ lying to you, but I had to keep my identity a secret for my safety and yours, you understand that right?"

"I just…I don't know who you are anymore!" Kurt cried, overwhelmed. His eyes began to prickle with tears, but Kurt willed him away. The last thing he needed to do was start crying like a little girl.

"Kurt, _please_ listen to me," Blaine's voice was full of desperation. "The guy you went on a date with tonight was the real me, I swear. I wanted to let you in earlier, believe me, I really did, but I just…I just wanted to make sure you liked _all_ of me first. I wasn't joking when I told you that you were my weakness, Kurt. My skin maybe impenetrable, but my heart can still break. And it's…Superman's pretty easy to like, you know? Then I'm such a dork at work because I need to be the last person anyone would suspect to be Superman and judging by your reaction a couple minutes ago, I guess I've been doing a pretty good job at it. But tonight, against all of my better judgment and willpower, I wasn't putting on an act. But if you don't think you can handle this Kurt, I understand. I can make you forget tonight happened—"

"NO!" Kurt hollered at the suggestion. "I…it's just…I mean, I just need a few minutes to process this."

"Of course," Blaine said. "Like I said, I'll tell you whatever you want to know."

Kurt sat and pondered for a few minutes. "Why do you work at The Daily Planet?"

"Well, I don't get paid for being Superman," Blaine chuckled. "I mean, I've gotten offers for endorsement deals, but I'm getting off track. Working at The Daily Planet allows me to hear about the news as it breaks. Plus, I enjoy writing."

Kurt looked at him. It was so strange to see Superman in street clothes. Kurt kind of liked it though, he liked being in on the secret, being the only one who got to see Superman like this. In fact, it was turning him on a little. "Are you wearing it now? The costume?"

"No," Blaine smiled. "I took the night off."

"To be with me?"

"Yes."

"Blaine! You're making me feel bad!" Kurt complained, trying to disguise how secretly flattered he was.

"Hey! I'm allowed to take a break every once in a while. That's actually why I was late picking you up, I was…dealing with something," Blaine told him.

Kurt laughed to himself.

"What is it?" Blaine inquired.

"I was just thinking about when you picked me up, how you were acting all out of breath. It was cute."

"Cute, huh?" Blaine echoed, beginning to close the distance between them. "So, you're okay with this?"

"I am. Well actually, to be honest," Kurt murmured, "I'm not totally convinced that you're Superman."

Blaine pulled back and sat straight up. "You're not?"

"Nope," Kurt replied, trying to fight the sly smirk that was tugging at the corners at his lips.

"What do I have to do? Light those—" Blaine motioned to the candles on his coffee table "with my eyes?"

"As fascinating as I'm sure that would be, I think kissing me would suffice," Kurt clarified, the playful lilt in his tone unmistakable.

"Kiss you?"

"Yes. You see, the guy I kissed earlier did _not_ kiss like Superman does, and trust me, I _know _how Superman kisses," teased Kurt.

"I'll show you how Superman kisses," Blaine growled before crashing his lips to Kurt's. Neither man bothered to stifle the moans that the contact caused them to make. They were bolder than the night before, teeth clashing together as their tongues intertwined right away on account of there wasn't anything to hide anymore.

Even though Blaine's tongue was down his throat and his hand was fisted in his shirt possessively while the other cupped his face, Kurt could not believe this was actually happening, how ridiculously fortunate he was. Because not only was Superman _gay_, he liked _him_, he also happened to be _Blaine_. If that wasn't the jackpot, Kurt didn't know what was.

Kurt wasn't really sure when he moved to straddle Blaine's thigh, or when Blaine dropped his kisses to his neck, but just like last night, Blaine remained the ever the gentleman. His hands hadn't ventured below the belt and although Kurt's thigh was pressed up right up against the front of his pants (which were beginning to become tented, he noticed), Blaine hadn't sought any friction against it. That was when a deliciously wicked question popped into his head, and Blaine had said he'd tell Kurt anything he wanted to know, right?

"Blaine," he huffed, pulling away from Blaine's grasp and sitting back on his strong, sturdy thigh.

"Yeah?" he asked, his voice all breathy and wrecked, his head tilted back to rest on the top of the couch, his eyes half-lidded and unfocused. Kurt can't help but feel a little swell of accomplishment and arousal at the fact that he reduced freaking _Superman_ to an out-of-breath, horny mess.

"Have you ever used your x-ray vision to, you know, check me out?"

Blaine's eyes snapped open and he straightened up instantly. "_No_! Of course not! I've always respected your privacy Kurt, I mean I only used it those times you asked me what color your underwear was but I never looked…beneath them."

"Do you want to?" Kurt asked in a low, seductive voice, leaning forward so he could whisper what he said next directly into Blaine's ear. "You won't need the x-ray vision, either."

A low moan ripped from Blaine's throat, his hips pushing forward slightly into Kurt's thigh at his suggestion. "_Kurt_," he groaned, "you can't just _say_ things like that!"

"Sorry, was I not straightforward enough?" Kurt asked, starting to grind himself into Blaine's thigh. "Let me rephrase-_I want to get naked_."

Blaine's eyes rolled back into his head. How many times had he dreamed of Kurt expressing that sentiment to him? Now it was actually happening. He wanted to super-speed them into the bedroom, claw away their clothes, and then pound into Kurt until morning (_because if you have super-endurance, you might as well use it_). _God, it's been so long since I had sex, _he thought, _too fucking long…_Blaine caught himself. It _had_ been too long, that was the problem. Blaine wasn't sure if he could control his strength anymore like he had conditioned himself to do in college, and even if a shred of self-control lingered, Kurt would probably obliterate it with his talented tongue, or his naughty words, or that pert little ass of his...

"Kurt," he ground out. _I can't believe it, I can't believe cockblocking myself. _Kurt hopped of off him, and suddenly it was a lot easier to compose his thoughts. _I can do this—_

"Tell you what," Kurt began. "I'm going to head over to the bedroom, and if you're not there after I count to three, I'm starting without you." He sauntered out of the room, leaving Blaine there on the couch cursing his strength and the sinful sway of Kurt's hips.

Kurt had already lost his vest and key-tie thingy and was working on his Doc Martens when Blaine entered his bedroom, taking measured breaths and trying to think horrendous thoughts to calm himself down. _If I hurt Kurt I could never forgive myself, _he chanted in his head, _if I hurt Kurt I could never forgive myself…_

"Kurt," said Blaine. Kurt looked up from his shoe laces and grinned.

"Hey there, sexy," Kurt purred. "Give me a sec." He toed off his boots and then threw himself at Blaine, who caught him all to easily. "Bed," Kurt commanded, and Blaine, too preoccupied with the fact that Kurt's long, sinuous legs were wrapped around him and their cocks were slotted together, obeyed blindly.

Once they were seated at the edge of the bed, Kurt didn't waste a moment, and began to suck on Blaine's ear while unbuttoning his shirt and resumed his grinding into Blaine's groin.

"Shit, Blaine," he cursed into Blaine's ear. "You have no idea how hot you make me, I want you inside of me so fucking badly."

"How did you know I liked dirty talk?" Blaine whimpered, paralyzed by Kurt's ministrations. He was almost finished undoing Blaine's shirt.

"Because we're made for eac—Oh my God, _Blaine!_"

"What? What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"I'm _fine," _he assured him. "It's just, _oh Blaine_, I want to bake cookies on your stomach."

Kurt sat back on Blaine's thighs again to admire the set of washboard abs that he had just exposed. His mind screamed at him to _TOUCH ALREADY _and touch he did. Kurt ran his hands up and down the ripples of Blaine's abdomen greedily, reveling in the combination of hard muscle, warm skin, and soft, undeniably masculine chest hair. Kurt found himself tracing the "V" leading into Blaine's pants, and then got an even better idea.

_He's taking off my pants, _oh fuck_, he's taking off my pants…this is not fair, so very very unfair, _Blaine whined inwardly, scrambling to hold on to his restraint.

"_So big," _Kurt gasped at Blaine's cock after he freed it from its cloth confines. Seriously, Kurt had only seen a guy hung like that in his failed attempts at watching porn. He wrapped a hand around Blaine's thick length and choked in amazement as he watched Blaine continue to swell with arousal. _Maybe there is a God after all…_

Kurt quickly doubted his previous thought however, when Blaine seemed to disappear from below him and he was left on the bed alone.

"I'm sorry, Kurt."

Kurt looked behind him to see that Blaine was standing a few feet from the edge of the bed, a pained expression twisting his handsome features.

"What's wrong?" Kurt asked, his bravado vanishing. "Did you not…I'm sorry, Blaine! I don't know what came over me, it's just you're _so_—I want you _so_ badly, Blaine. I freaked you out, didn't I? That's what I get for trying to be sexy—"

"Kurt, stop." Blaine was back on the bed sitting next to him in a split second. "You didn't do _anything_ wrong, in fact, you were doing everything _right_. You are the sexiest man I have ever seen, and you don't even need to try. I had to stop because…well, I was getting carried away and I could really hurt you, Kurt."

"Blaine, I know I may seem like a baby penguin, but I've actually had sex before," Kurt deadpanned.

"No, Kurt, it's not that," Blaine chuckled and then paused to word his explanation as carefully as possible. "It's my strength, it's not just limited to my arms, if you know what I mean, and I haven't…_been_ with anyone in an embarrassingly long time and…if I lost control, even just for a second, I could seriously injure you and then I'd never be able to live myself if I did."

"So," Kurt tried to comprehend what Blaine had just told him. "We can't have sex?"

"_Yet_," Blaine amended. "Just give me a little time to get reacquainted with being intimate with someone again and then we can go at it like rabbits…but you know, only if you want to."

Kurt giggled and leaned in to plant a chaste kiss on Blaine's lips. "Take as long as you need. Something tells me you're going to be worth the wait."

"And what makes you think that?" Blaine inquired, capturing Kurt's lips again for another kiss, this one less innocent.

Kurt pulled away. "Well, there's your dazzling personality," he looked pointedly at Blaine's crotch, "and then there's _that_."

Blaine blushed before springing up in realization. "Oh my God, you're not still hard, are you? I'm so sorry, Kurt—"

"Blaine, did you just apologize for giving me an erection?" quipped Kurt.

Blaine's flush turned a deeper shade of red. "I just—let me take care of you."

"I thought you said we had to wait until you regained your 'control'?"

"I have so much 'control' in my right hand it's a little pathetic," Blaine admitted. Images of Blaine touching himself flooded Kurt's mind and _yep, definitely still hard_. "But, if you don't feel comfortable, we don't have to."

"Oh, I'm certainly up for it," Kurt guaranteed him. "And I trust you, Blaine."

Blaine's eyes shone with something that resembled the word Kurt wasn't allowing himself to think yet, and claimed Kurt's mouth with a kiss that had a ferocity and hunger like earlier. He pulled Kurt into his lap again, finally allowing himself to cup Kurt's amazing ass, while they rubbed against each other.

The two men broke apart for air and Blaine spoke, "Now you mentioned something about getting naked, and I think we might be able to arrange that." He flipped Kurt over so he was lying on the bed, and began undressing him at an inhuman pace, his black shirt and pants were discarded then folded and put on top of the dresser before Kurt could count to ten.

Blaine paused to admire his handiwork. "So beautiful," he breathed and climbed on top of Kurt, kissing him passionately, as his fingertips glided all over Kurt's nearly naked body, coming to rest at the waistband of his briefs.

Kurt snickered into Blaine's mouth.

"What is it?" Blaine asked.

"Grey," he told him.

Blaine laughed in reply and hooked his fingers into Kurt's waistband but Kurt batted his hands away.

"Ah-ah-ah," he chided, "You are still wearing _way_ too many clothes, Anderson. When I said I wanted to get naked, I meant_ both _of us."

Blaine grinned and stripped down to his boxers at super-speed. He pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses into Kurt's shoulder as he reached over to his bedside table, opening the drawer and fishing out his bottle of lube. He flipped open the cap and squirted a generous amount into his hands before sitting up. They locked gazes before Kurt's dropped to his stomach.

"Have I mentioned that your abs are magnificent?" he asked Blaine, palming himself through his underwear at the sight.

"Hey!" Blaine protested, rubbing his hands together to warm the lube. "That's my job! Now off with underwear, I want to see you."

Kurt didn't need to be told twice, he shed his briefs as quick as someone who wasn't from Krypton could. Blaine studied him intently, and Kurt couldn't help but feel a wave of self-consciousness roll through him under his lover's intense stare. "I know I'm not as long as a freaking _ruler_ like you, but—"

"Shut up," Blaine commanded him as gently as he could. "You're perfect."

"Funny, I feel the same way about you," Kurt told him genuinely, remembering the night when Superman had saved him.

"All I want you to worry about is feeling good," Blaine told him, his voice deep and gravelly. Kurt's reply was a very manly squeak as Blaine wrapped his warm, strong hand around Kurt's cock and began to pump.

"Blaine," Kurt moaned as Blaine continued to jerk him off, his pace steadily increasing. "Oh Blaine, so good…so fucking good…_oh_, more Blaine, _more_..."

"You want more?" Blain rumbled as he began to twist his hand at the end of each stroke, and brushing his thumb across the head to collect the beads of precome that were beginning to collect there.

"Ye-yes, Blaine," Kurt was struggling to formulate coherent words. "_Pl-please_."

"Your wish, my command," Blaine's free hand moved to cup Kurt's balls and began to roll them in his palm. "How's that?"

Kurt had been reduced to moans and sighs at this point, but even though Kurt couldn't speak per se, Blaine was completely sure that Kurt was enjoying this. He could tell Kurt was close, and Blaine had an idea for how to finish him off. He'd never tried it on anyone but himself, but after seventeen years of practice, Blaine decided that the payoff would be worth the risk.

Blaine's hand moved faster and faster over Kurt's member, reaching super-speed so it felt like Blaine was everywhere at once. Kurt's eyes screwed shut as he thrust into Blaine's fist one, two more times before coming with a strangled cry, hitting a high note, only countertenor like himself could reach.

Kurt hadn't realized that he had blacked out again until he was roused back into awareness by the feel of a warm, damp, washcloth gently scrubbing at his skin.

"Welcome back," Blaine murmured, a content smile on his face, as he hovered over Kurt, continuing to clean him with careful strokes.

"Ugh, I blacked out again, didn't I?" Two times in one night seemed a bit excessive. Kurt had always thought that passing out from an orgasm was just an old wives tale.

"Don't be ashamed," Blaine comforted him, "I did too the first time I did that to myself."

"Did you—"

"Yeah, right after you. I'm actually glad you weren't conscious when I did, it was pretty pitiful for a thirty-year-old man."

Kurt chuckled. "Well, you said it had been a while, right?"

"That's true," Blaine agreed as he finished cleaning Kurt's chest. "How about I grab you some clean clothes and we'll call it a night?"

"Sounds wonderful," Kurt replied, stealing a quick kiss before slipping under the covers of Blaine's bed.

Blaine returned moments later wearing fresh boxers, with a pair of plaid ones and an Ohio State t-shirt for Kurt, and joined him in bed.

"Are you a cuddler?" Blaine asked once Kurt was dressed.

"With you, I am," Kurt replied, nestling himself into the crook of Blaine's arm, just like he had when they had gone flying last night. _Gaga, was that really just last night? _He pressed a kiss into Blaine's pec (he was forever grateful that Blaine hadn't covered up his glorious torso with a shirt). "Hey Blaine?"

"Hmmm?"

"How did you ever leave your room when you were a teenager?"

Blaine laughed. "My dad made sure I had plenty of chores around the farm to keep me busy, believe me."

"Oh," Kurt said, his exhaustion really starting to set in.

"Any more questions about my sex-addled teenage years?"

"No, I think I'm good for right now," Kurt responded, stifling a yawn and snuggling closer to Blaine.

"Then you should probably…" Blaine didn't bother finishing his sentence once he glanced down and saw that Kurt was already asleep. He smiled and kissed his forehead, and only since Kurt didn't stir, Blaine let himself whisper "I love you, Kurt."

**A/N: So I know Kurt's behavior may have seemed like it came out of left field, but come on, if you found out Blaine Anderson was Superman you'd jump his bones too, wouldn't you? I would. There are more sexy times ahead, I'm going to **_**try**_** to get the next chappie up tomorrow, but I'm working late tomorrow and I had to actually spend time with my family this weekend. Your reviews are like fuel though, they make the sleep deprivation worth it. **

**Oh and one more thing, Harry Potter anyone? I cried like a baby in my kick-ass Hermione costume. **

**Hearts and Stars,**

**youngandobsessed**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Be warned…this chapter contains nothing but fluff and smut…smuff, if you will. Also, a special thank you to Maroon 5 for making such sexy music for me to write to (have you heard Moves Like Jagger? Adam Levine's voice is pure sex). **

Chapter 11

Kurt was slightly confused and disappointed when he rolled over the following morning and heard the crinkling of paper rather than feel Blaine's warm body. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes to read the note:

_Kurt, _

_Duty calls. Be back soon. Help yourself to anything in the fridge!_

–_Blaine _

He smiled softly and rolled out of bed, padding out of Blaine's bedroom and to the bathroom that was off of the living room. When he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror after relieving himself, Kurt noticed that he was wearing the same expression as his reflection in the river Friday night…the happy face that only Blaine could cause him to make. That and he needed to moisturize like _now_, since his skin was already showing signs of drying. Kurt made do with what he found in Blaine's cabinet, and then borrowed some mouthwash before trying to tame his hair from sticking up in so many odd directions.

Blaine still hadn't returned once Kurt had finished in the bathroom, and he felt a mixture of emotions at the fact. Somewhat peeved that Blaine wasn't back yet, nervous and forlorn that it was always going to be like this, but at the same time, proud that Blaine had such a noble heart and altruistic nature, then finally privileged that such a magnanimous man had chosen him.

Kurt decided to take Blaine up on his offer on raiding his fridge, and was surprised to find it so well stocked. He had figured between the hours he put in at The Daily Planet _plus_ his Superman duties that Blaine wouldn't have much time to grocery shop. Kurt was wrong. And what with Blaine saving the world and giving Kurt such a superb orgasm last night, Kurt figured the least he could do was make Blaine breakfast.

He was so immersed in getting his egg-white omelet just the way he liked it that Kurt wasn't aware that Blaine had slipped back into the apartment. He grinned and zoomed up behind Kurt unseen.

"You made me breakfast," he murmured into Kurt's ear, wrapping his arms around Kurt's waist.

Kurt shrieked in an embarrassingly girly manner, jumping at Blaine's sudden closeness and flinging his hands in the air in alarm, sending the frying pan and Kurt's almost perfect omelet with it. Blaine deftly reaches around Kurt to catch the airborne frying pan and recover the omelet with effortless dexterity, switching off the stove while he was at it.

Turning around to face him, Kurt blushed as Blaine surveyed him with a look of disbelief and amusement. "Don't judge me. I scare really easily and you just traipse in here all stealthily and I can't help it if…okay, you can judge me."

Blaine chuckled. "I think it's adorable, I think _you're_ adorable." He kissed Kurt sweetly. "Good morning."

Kurt, no longer scared half to death, was able to get a good look at Blaine. The suit clung deliciously to every curve of his muscular body, which was already a sexy sight, made all the more erotic with the fact that Kurt knew what that body looked like without the suit. "Yes, it is," he agreed, pulling Blaine in for a decidedly less sweet liplock.

"Mmmm, Kurt," Blaine mumbled, trying to pry his lips away from Kurt's, "Kurt, baby, that's so good, but I don't want your culinary efforts to go to waste."

Kurt released him with a little exasperated sigh. "Men and their appetites."

"Can't help it," Blaine shrugged with a smile. "Let me go get changed and I'll—"

"No!" Kurt cut him off. "I mean, um, like you said, we don't want the food to get cold and I wouldn't mind if you just left the suit on while we ate."

"Kurt," Blaine began, cocking an eyebrow. "Do you have a thing for the suit?"

"No, I'm just hungry," He lied…pathetically, pathetically lied.

"Liar," Blaine called him out, enjoying the flush that was spreading over Kurt's face and neck. "You love the suit."

"I like a man in uniform," Kurt admitted in a rush, "especially one that's so _tight_," he added in a voice that a normal man wouldn't have been able to hear.

"I'll remember that," Blaine replied conversationally, balancing all of the plates of food on his arm expertly and making his way over to the table. "I might even have to whip out my old school uniform from high school."

"Sc-school uniform?" Kurt repeated, following Blaine over to the table, silently cursing that damn cape for obscuring Blaine's spandex-clad backside.

"Yep," Blaine replied, pulling out a chair and motioning for Kurt to sit. He complied. "But first, breakfast."

"I'm hungry for something else all of sudden."

Blaine chewed and swallowed the bite of toast he had just consumed before answering. "Then you shouldn't have made this food so delicious," he chided playfully, going for the bacon.

Kurt watched him scarf down the various plates of food for a few moments before remarking, "If how you eat is one of your special abilities, then I think my step-brother has super powers."

Blaine laughed. "Well, fighting crime does cause one to work up quite an appetite, so it's a possibility. How is Finn?"

"Ugh, fighting with his girlfriend again. They've been together since high school and if he doesn't propose soon, it is very likely that Quinn will go on a murderous rampage."

"_Women_," Blaine scoffed with a roll of his eyes. "Kurt, you haven't touched your food. Everything okay?"

Kurt shuddered out of his infatuated daze. "Oh yeah, I'm fine. Just got distracted by the attractiveness of the company, that's all."

Blaine flashed him one of his swoon-inducing grins, and after a few more minutes of admiring, Kurt began to eat his omelet. The pair ate in a comfortable silence until Kurt began to make those sexy little moans again as he enjoyed his meal. Blaine forgot all about his food, opting to ogle Kurt instead of finishing his scrambled eggs.

"I don't want to toot my own horn, but this is really good," he commented. When Blaine didn't reply, Kurt glanced up at him, and noted his stare. "What, do I have something in my teeth?"

Blaine snorted a laugh and shook his head. "No, it's…I _enjoy_ it a little too much when you enjoy your food."

Kurt's brow furrowed in confusion for a couple of seconds before it clicked. "_Ooooooh, _well I do owe you an orgasm, don't I?"

Less than a second later, Kurt felt himself being slammed into Blaine's bed, his lips being ambushed by Blaine's, his shirt literally being ripped off his body. He tried to reciprocate but Kurt's fingers just scratched at the spandex unsuccessfully. Blaine picked up on the hint and broke the kiss, winking before momentarily turning into a blur to discard his hero attire, the only article of clothing left on him a pair of neoprene shorts that left absolutely nothing to the imagination, namely, how aroused Blaine was at the moment.

"Off," Kurt barked and Blaine obeyed, removing his undergarments at a normal pace this time. Kurt couldn't contain the wanton whine he made at the sight of Blaine naked. It was all so tan, muscular, and most importantly, all for Kurt.

He made a show of licking his palm, causing a string of profanities to tumble from Blaine's lips, before wrapping his hand around Blaine's massive cock.

"I can't go at the speed of light," Kurt remarked as he began to move his hand. "But, I—"

"_Kurt_," Blaine interjected, his tone nothing less than utterly debauched. "The fact that it's _your_ hand makes it…_ah_ fuck fuck fuck, _better_ than the sp-sp-_speed…oh…"_

"I'm flattered," he replied, blushing a little. The fact that Kurt could look so innocent and flushed while giving him a handjob made Blaine's eyes roll back in his head and his hip begin to cant forward in time with Kurt's pumping. "Hey Blaine?"

"Mmmm?"

"Does the um…invulnerability thing…does it apply to your whole body, like your strength?"

"Mmhmm."

"So if I did this," Kurt gave Blaine's cock a rather rough squeeze, "it wouldn't hurt?"

"_God_, no," Blaine replied. "Nnnnnnngh, you can…you can…go harder…_shit_…if you want…I…I—yes, _Kurt_…woah-won't break."

"Duly noted," Kurt replied, his turn to wink. He began to tug and squeeze at Blaine's cock brusquely, so hard that it would easily injure an ordinary man, but Blaine relished the sensations. The timbre of his Blaine's grunts and groans, along with how the pace of Blaine's thrusting was near super-human, alerted Kurt that he was close. Kurt picked up the pace of his strokes and gripped Blaine's cock with all of his strength and moments later, the thick, pearly ropes of Blaine's cum were shooting everywhere. Kurt rubbed him through his climax, considerably less roughly though.

Once Blaine's cock was flaccid again, he collapsed on the bed next to Kurt. "_That_," he panted, "was totally awesome."

Kurt laughed. "Oh, high praise there."

"Hmm," he hummed contentedly.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," Blaine answered, rolling over to face Kurt and propping himself on his elbow.

"Um, you don't have to answer if you don't want to, but exactly how long has it been since you've had sex?"

Blaine immediately adverted his eyes in shame. "Promise not to laugh or judge or anything?"

"You know I wouldn't," Kurt vowed, locking gazes with Blaine. "If it makes you feel less awkward, I hadn't gotten any in like nine months before last night."

Blaine mumbled something quickly and quietly.

"Sorry? I didn't catch that."

"Eight years."

"_WHAT_?"

"I-I was in training!" Blaine tried to explain.

"Training for what, the priesthood?" Kurt retorted.

"No! To be Superman," Blaine went on, his face reddening more and more by the second. "I was up north, _way_ up north, and there weren't any people, let alone gay men, around."

"I can't believe—jeez, talk about super endurance," Kurt marveled to himself.

"Can we change the subject?" pleaded Blaine.

"Sure," Kurt told him, kicking himself mentally for his insensitive reaction. "Oh Blaine, I didn't mean to humiliate you or anything. I only asked because I'm so floored by how at freaking amazing you are at this. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

"It's fine. But speaking of you and sex, can I get you off now? Provided that my eight years of abstinence wasn't a total boner kill for you."

"Please Blaine, it's going to take a lot more than that to get me soft when you're so naked and close to me," Kurt promised him, unable to resist the urge to run his hand up and down Blaine's perfect abdomen.

Blaine smiled and drew Kurt into his lap. "What do you want, baby?" he whispered seductively into Kurt's ear.

It took a moment for Kurt to clear his mind of the lustful fog Blaine had created with his inquiry to remember how to make words. "I…I want…"

Blaine ripped off Kurt's boxers and began kneading his bare buttocks. "What, baby? Tell me."

Kurt knew he wanted. He wanted Blaine to fuck him. But that wasn't an option at the moment, so Kurt scrambled to think of the next best thing that wouldn't test the limits of Blaine's self-control. "I want to rub off…on-on your thigh."

"Whatever you say, baby," he crooned, then lifted Kurt slightly so he was straddling Blaine's right thigh. Kurt didn't waste a moment before he began to shamelessly hump Blaine, seeking his lips for a desperate, sloppy kiss as they rubbed against each other. Kurt was quite surprised to feel Blaine hard against him, because _hadn't he come like five minutes ago? _He quickly dismissed the thought though, and chose to concentrate on the glorious friction of his cock on Blaine's leg and Blaine's cock on his thigh.

"I'm sor-sorry, I can't do more," Blaine apologized, his voice tight. "Buh-but I don't want to risk it."

"What would you do?" Kurt inquired breathlessly. "What would you do if you could?

Blaine groaned at Kurt's request. He smirked, remembering that last night Blaine had let it slip that he had a dirty talk kink.

"I'd nibble your ear," Blaine rasped.

"Like this?" Kurt caught Blaine's right ear lobe between his teeth.

"Ughhhh, _yes_!" Blaine moaned, the pace of his grinding into Kurt's thigh beginning to pick up.

"What else?" Kurt prompted before tracing the shell of his ear with his tongue.

"I-I'd probably play with your nipples too."

"Hmm, good idea," Kurt purred, sliding his hands down from Blaine's shoulders to tweak the two buds. A broken cry escaped Blaine's lips and his hold on Kurt's hips constricted.

"Too tight, Blaine" Kurt admonished his lover.

Instantly, Blaine's grip slackened. "Sorry baby, see what I mean though? _Ugh_ you know what's too tight? _Your ass_. You have _such_ an amazing ass, Kurt. I'd give anything to be able to get my fingers in there, to stretch you out for my cock."

Blaine's words caused Kurt to moan long and deep. "I know, Blaine, _I know_. I…want that too…_oh_, want it _so bad_…what if I did this?" Kurt shoved his index finger in his mouth.

It took Blaine a moment to realize what Kurt was doing, but when he did, he practically started to sob. "Oh fuck Kurt, _fuck_. So…so _fucking_…I'm going to come Kurt…gonna come so hard…" He craned his neck to the side so he could watch Kurt slide the digit into his entrance. He had barely gotten his fingernail in before Blaine's hips spasmed and his seed soaked Kurt's thigh.

Kurt's finger hadn't advanced that much more inside of him before Blaine's hand found his cock and jerked him off at super-speed so he was coming just a few seconds later. Once his orgasm had subsided, Kurt collapsed on top of Blaine, who set him back on the bed gently before disappearing for a split second and returning with a washcloth to clean the both of them off.

"Hmm, thanks," Kurt mumbled sleepily.

"Anytime, Kurt," Blaine assured him, much too alert for a man that had just climaxed twice in a twenty-minute period. "If you want to take a nap, Kurt, then by all means go ahead. I'm not going to be offended or anything."

"If you insist," he yawned, smiling dreamily when Blaine tucked the covers up around him. "Hold me?"

"Like you have to ask," Blaine mock-scoffed, joining Kurt underneath the blankets and pulling him close to his body as Kurt drifted off to sleep.

0-0-0

"Hey there, Sleeping Beauty," Blaine's voice greeted him as Kurt regained consciousness a few hours later.

"Hey yourself, Prince Charming," Kurt quipped, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Blaine was sitting next to him on the bed, dressed as Superman. "Now, that is a sight I could get used to waking up to."

Blaine grinned. "I could say the same about having you in my bed. But Kurt," he began, his tone becoming serious, "we probably should talk about, you know, us."

"I agree," Kurt replied, sitting up. "So…what are we exactly?"

"Well, Kurt," Blaine took Kurt's hand in his. "I would be honored if you would be my boyfriend. But if you don't think you can handle my…'other career', then I completely understand. I can even wipe your memory if you don't want there to be any hard feelings."

"Blaine, mention brainwashing me again and I will _find_ a way to hurt you," he threatened, only half-joking.

"It's just—" Blaine's thumb began rubbing small circles into the back of Kurt's hand. "I want you to know what you're getting yourself into. I'm fully prepared to make you a priority Kurt, but you have to realize that being Superman is a major priority of mine as well. And that means lonely nights, missed dates, sudden departures if something comes up, stuff like that."

"I understand, Blaine," Kurt told him sincerely, "and I think it's so amazing what you do for this planet. And maybe you not being around all the time might be a good thing for us, actually. I've always been very independent, and I've never really been in a serious relationship before, and your 'other career' will give us a healthy dose of space, you know? Prevent us from getting too clingy with one another, give me time to work and hang out with the girls, et cetera."

Blaine studied Kurt for a moment before sweeping him into a languid kiss. "What did I do to get such a remarkable, intelligent, compassionate man like you?"

"Please," Kurt snorted. "More like, how severe was the head injury you sustained that made you want to be with _me_?"

"No way,_ I'm_ the lu—" Blaine's rebuttal was silenced by the sudden blaring of sirens.

Kurt gave Blaine a sympathetic look. "Duty calls."

"Let me take you home first," he asserted, hopping of the bed. "Do want to borrow some clothes?"

"No, it's fine, just toss me mine from last night."

Kurt was ready to go within a few minutes, and five minutes after that, Blaine was lowering him onto his balcony.

"See you tomorrow," Blaine told him softly.

"Yeah," Kurt replied. "_Oh_, fuck!"

"What is it?" questioned Blaine, making the confused face that Kurt found so endearing.

"_Tomorrow,_ Blaine. What are we going to do about work tomorrow?"

"Shit, I hadn't thought of that," Blaine sighed. "I'm guessing The Planet frowns on office romances?"

"Sue singlehandedly destroyed a twenty-year marriage last year because she was bored," Kurt informed him, not a trace of playfulness in his tone.

"_Wow_," Blaine's eyebrows shot up. "Well, I guess we're going to have to keep our relationship a secret then. Sorry."

"Hey, maybe it won't be so bad," Kurt said, pressing light kisses into Blaine's strong jaw. "It could be exciting having a steamy secret like having an affair with Superman to keep all to myself."

Kurt smashed his lips to Blaine's for a hungry kiss, knowing that it was going to have to last him until tomorrow.

"Mmmm, baby," Blaine whimpered as he practically forced Kurt off of him. "I really should go."

"I know," Kurt huffed in regret. "I was just giving my hero a proper send off."

"Well, I don't know how _proper_ it would be if I showed up to save people nursing a semi," Blaine pointed out.

"Hmm, it'd be hot though," Kurt giggled.

"See you tomorrow, Kurt," Blaine told him, sneaking in a peck on his cheek before taking off.

"See ya around, Superman."

**A/N: Warm fuzzies for everyone! Next chapter it's back to The Daily Planet (and Sue!) as Blaine and Kurt try to keep their romance a secret…**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: So we're back at The Daily Planet…and more smuff ensues…**

Chapter 12

Kurt Hummel didn't hit the snooze button five times when his alarm blared the Wicked soundtrack to wake him up. He didn't get his customary Monday morning extra shot of espresso in his grandé non-fat mocha. He didn't take the subway either, he opted to walk the thirty blocks between his apartment and the Planet since it was such a nice day out. If anyone close to Kurt had observed this behavior, they would have had him psychologically evaluated immediately. But Kurt Hummel wasn't crazy. Kurt Hummel had a _boyfriend_. And not just any old boyfriend…_Blaine Anderson_…who just happened to be _Superman_. And yes, Cosmo magazine, Superman _did _incorporate his powers into his sex life. And it. Was. _Awesome_.

Therefore it required all of Kurt's community theatre training to twist his broad grin into a mask of indifference as the elevator doors slid open to reveal the entrance to the newsroom. He sashayed to his desk like usual, and felt his stomach do a gold-medal level gymnastics routine when Blaine came into view. He was perched at his desk, absorbed in whatever he was typing on his laptop, periodically taking small sips of his coffee. This was going to be just like that acting class he took at the local playhouse back in high school, when Mr. Ryerson gave them all personas and held a competition to see who could stay in character the longest without breaking. Kurt had won that competition. _Hell, I think I still have that dinky ribbon back at Dad's house somewhere. _Kurt didn't break character then, and he was not going to break character now.

"Good morning, Blaine," Kurt acknowledged him tersely.

"Oh, hey Kurt!" Blaine chirped in reply, as over-enthusiastic as ever. "Sleep well?"

"Y-yeah," Kurt stammered in answering him, fighting the blush rising to his cheeks on account of Kurt's dreams the previous night had been filled with Blaine. A very, _very_ naked Blaine…

"Good to hear!" he intoned as he adjusted his glasses and returned to his work.

_Damn, when did his glasses become so sexy? They make me want to violate him…great, now I'm developing a librarian kink…Blaine would make such a sexy librarian…who are you kidding, Kurt? Blaine would make a sexy _everything. _Look, he's being a sexy coffee drinker right now, Gaga, the way his Adam's Apple bobs as he swallows is positively _sinful…_and the way his fingers are wrapped around the cup…fuck, that's one lucky Starbucks cup…although I was luckier Saturday night…great, way to give yourself a woody in the middle of your workplace…it's only ten after nine and you're already half-hard from just _looking _at Blaine. Today is going to be miserable…I wonder if Blaine and I are going to get together after work…he probably has to attend to Superman duties…I wonder how long those take...I hope he won't be too tired…maybe we could relax together in bathtub…stop it, Kurt! Great, now how are you going to get rid of this thing—_

"Hummel!" The distinct voice of one Sue Sylvester shook Kurt from his thoughts. _Oh, would you look at that, my erection has disappeared altogether. _"Hummel. I wanted to congratulate you on the Superman interview. We sold out and something tells me that the Pulitzer Board over at Columbia got their hands on a copy. Now, how's that explosion story going?"

"It's coming along, Sue," Kurt told her.

"It better be. Just because you scored the most important interview of the past decade doesn't mean you can just sit back and bask in your own flamboyant glory. Look at Hitler, Napoleon, Charlie Sheen. And you," Sue turned to face Blaine. "The Thirty-Year-Old Virgin. Becky should have sent you a lead on a story about an elementary school gambling ring in Queens. The liberal fatalists say that it's a sign of the downfall of our society, but I can't help but admire those little tykes' initiative."

Both men burst into laughter once Sue left, their eyes catching each other's in a dangerously flirtatious way. They both averted their eyes immediately, resuming their respective tasks. The rest of the morning passed without incident, and when lunchtime rolled around, Kurt allowed Tina and Mercedes to drag him (he may or may not have cast one too many longing glances at Blaine as he was leaving) to go grab Dim Sun with Mike, who was rehearsing for a music video that was shooting not too far from them. Kurt remembered the time when he used to envy Tina for being married to such an ab-tastic professional dancer, but now he had his own six pack to go home to. Damn it, he missed Blaine. _So much for not acting clingy._

Kurt's yearning for Blaine only worsened as the day dragged on at a miserably slow pace. The most infuriating aspect was the fact that Blaine was right sitting right across from him, _so freaking close_, but Kurt had to pretend he was still repulsed by his every move when he was just the opposite. This time Kurt practically leapt out of his chair when Mercedes and Tina told him they were going up for a smoke. He almost accepted Mercedes' offer when she held out the cigarette, but he knew Blaine had various ways of knowing if Kurt had lit up, so he refused.

"So how was your date with Lame Anderson?" Mercedes asked as she lit her cigarette.

"Oh, um, uneventful. I ate, he talked. That's about it." Kurt fibbed.

"Where'd he take you?" Tina inquired.

"Some tacky restaurant in Midtown," Kurt told them. "I don't remember the name."

"Jeez, I can't help but feel bad for the kid sometimes," said Mercedes. "Did he ask you out again?"

"No, I think he got the hint that I wasn't interested."

"Well, that's what you wanted, wasn't it?" Tina supposed, always the optimist. "I'm more interested in what went down with you and this mystery guy you won't tell us anything about."

Kurt flushed. This was going to be tricky. "It went well."

"Kurt Hummel, you totally got laid, didn't you?" Mercedes grinned.

"Well, sort of. I mean we didn't go all the way, but I did have an orgasm that wasn't by my own hand, so I'd call that progress."

"So are you two…official?" Tina queried.

"Yes…but we're not public, if that makes any sense," Kurt informed them.

"That boy's dating you but still in the closet?" Mercedes questioned with disbelief.

"It's complicated," Kurt told her.

"Do I need to smack some sense into him?" she offered.

"No, no, Mercedes, that won't be necessary," he promised her.

"Are you sure, Kurt? Because it sounds to me like he's playing you," the gossip columnist challenged.

"He's _not_," Kurt insisted, begging to become agitated. "You don't know anything about him!"

"Listen, Kurt. I know it's been a while since you've been in a relationship and…"

"What? You think I'm so _desperate _that I'd throw myself at the first guy that shows me some attention? Just because you two are all settled down now doesn't make you fucking relationship experts, _especially_ gay relationships!" Kurt yelled.

"No, Kurt, that's not what Mercedes meant," Tina interjected. "Well, maybe it was, but we're just looking out for you, just like you would for us if the situation was reversed."

A long staredown between the two women and Kurt ensued. As usual he surrendered, "I'm sorry. It's just, I really care about this guy, and what we have is real, and don't get me wrong, I'm plenty frustrated that I can't shout his name from the rooftops, but I've got to respect his wishes."

"Well, we're looking forward to meeting him, when he feels comfortable," Tina told him, and then elbowed Mercedes when she didn't agree.

"Yeah," replied a still-glowering Mercedes.

"We should probably get back to work," Tina said, ushering her friends towards to door that led back downstairs.

0-0-0

For someone who attended an Ivy League school and graduated with a degree in Journalism, Kurt was painfully unobservant. Really, how had he gone almost two months without noticing that the sexiest man alive sat across from him every day at work? Sure, he had a pretty convincing disguise, but Kurt was a celebrated investigative journalist for McQueen's sake.

Blaine had noticed Kurt's infatuated gaze and sent him an imploring look across their desks. Kurt blinked and mouthed "Sorry". Blaine smiled sympathetically and winked at him quickly before going back to his article. He couldn't blame Kurt, Blaine also had struggled with maintaining their professional façade, especially since Kurt had decided to paint on his pants today. He had almost succeeded in clearing the subsequent dirty thoughts from his mind when his computer screen flashed, signaling that he had just received a new Skype message. _Odd_, he thought to himself, no one really messaged him during the workday, his friends from Dalton and State were working as well, and he was sure his mother wasn't even aware that Skype had an instant messaging function. Blaine saw that the sender had been Kurt. _What?_ Blaine clicked on his name to open the message.

**KurtHummel**: What color underwear am I wearing?

Blaine frowned and shot Kurt a reproachful glare and curtly typed out his reply.

**BAnderson: **Kurt. Not here.

**KurtHummel: **Why not?

Blaine could see Kurt smirking at him over his laptop.

**BAnderson: **It's inappropriate. We could get caught.

**KurtHummel: **These are our personal accounts, Blaine. It's not like we're doing this over the office's internal memo system. Live a little.

**BAnderson: **We're still not doing this.

**KurtHummel: **Please, Blaine? I'm dying over here and it's not like you haven't been staring at my ass whenever I get up to get something.

**BAnderson: **Kurt, I'm serious.

**KurtHummel: **So am I. It's my ass, Blaine, I think I deserve to know what you've been imagining doing to it.

Blaine bit his lip as his cock twitched in his pants. Kurt was going to be the death of him. He hesitantly glanced at Kurt, who simply raised his perfectly shaped eyebrow in reply, clearly egging him on. That was when his resolve snapped. Kurt wanted to sexy IM? He'd _show _him sexy IM-ing.

**BAnderson: **Well for starters, I haven't been able to get the image of you fingering yourself out of my head.

Blaine stole a glimpse at Kurt. He could hear his breath hitch as he read the message, and Blaine quickly looked away when Kurt's eyes darted to him before typing his response.

**KurtHummel**: Go on.

**BAnderson: **Then I imagine one of my fingers joining yours.

The visual hit Kurt like a freight train and it required a Herculean effort on his part not to moan in the middle of the newsroom because just the _thought_ of Blaine inside of him, in any capacity, was just…_unf_. Blaine must have detected his struggle to keep cool, since he messaged him:

**BAnderson: **You sure you want to do this? This isn't worth getting publicly humiliated over.

Kurt scowled at a now-leering Blaine.

**KurtHummel: **Never been more sure. Now keep talking.

**BAnderson: **Don't you mean typing?

Kurt had to fight the urge to stick his tongue out at Blaine.

**KurtHummel:** Whatever. More sexy talk please.

**BAnderson: **Well,since you said please…

**BAnderson: **We'd start working you open together, but I'd eventually ease your finger out and replace it with another of mine because you're going to need your strength.

**KurtHummel: **I like the sound of that. You better stretch me good, because I'm going to need all the prep I can get for that huge cock of yours.

It was Blaine's turn to repress a groan, his hips inching forward to seek the nonexistent friction he was beginning to crave. Kurt couldn't resist the sight of Blaine starting to come undone.

**KurtHummel: **It's so BIG, Blaine. Just thinking about it makes my mouth water. Fuck I can't wait to feel it filling me up it's going to feel so fucking good.

Blaine was getting—he was hard. Sometimes his 'super' hormones were more trouble than they were worth_. Well, no turning back now._

**BAnderson: **You like my cock, baby? I'll give it you all night. No super-speed. I want to go slow, make it last. Would you like that?

Kurt was clutching the arms of his desk chair with a white-knuckle grip. He was painfully aroused and had a feeling that Blaine was in a similar predicament. He needed relief, release, _something_ before he came in his pants in the middle of The Daily Planet.

**KurtHummel: **You never answered my question, you know.

Blaine quirked an eyebrow and peeked at Kurt, who didn't hold his gaze but rather looked down at his crotch, urging Blaine to do the same.

**BAnderson: **You're not wearing any underwear.

**KurtHummel: **Trick question and he got it right. I'm impressed.

If Blaine didn't do something about his little big problem soon, he couldn't be held responsible if he bent Kurt over the desk and gave his co-workers something to write about that they wouldn't be able to publish to the general public.

**BAnderson: **46th Floor bathroom. Meet me there inten minutes.

Kurt wasn't able to type as much as a single letter before Blaine had closed his laptop, sprung up, and was booking it out of the newsroom.

_Ten minutes! How am I supposed to wait _TEN FUCKING MINUTES _before I can take care of this thing? Do you think anyone could see me if I—No! No Kurt, you can't jerk yourself off under your desk. How are old you? Thirteen? Psh, like you had the courage to actually jack off without being overcome with guilt and disgust when you were thirteen. How long has it been? Thirty seconds…screw it. _

Kurt hopped up and sped from his desk. He prayed that if he adjusted his blazer just so, maybe everyone wouldn't notice his raging erection.

"Hey, Kurt!" Artie Abrams suddenly appeared in his path. "I just got the photos from the explosion site in and I think—"

"Artie." Kurt told him in a clipped tone. "Not. Now."

"Um, okay. I'll just leave them on your desk?" Artie stuttered, bemused.

"Fabulous. Now if you'll excuse me."

Kurt felt bad about being so abrupt with Artie, it wasn't exactly good form to mistreat the guy in the wheelchair, but the head on his shoulders wasn't doing the majority of the thinking at the moment. Figuring that the elevator would take too long and he could risk running into other co-worker in his current condition, Kurt flew down the eight flights of stairs and sprinted into the men's bathroom.

Blaine was waiting for him when Kurt flung open the door, shirt and pants open, Superman costume peeled down, his erection straining proudly against the synthetic fabric of his shorts.

"You're early."

Kurt hurled himself at Blaine, their lips colliding fiercely. Blaine procured Kurt's dick from his pants at super-speed as Kurt inched down his shorts to free him simultaneously. They wasted no time in circling their hands around each other's cocks and pumping furiously as their tongues battled for dominance. Blaine grappled to keep his pace at a somewhat 'normal' level, he wanted to come with Kurt this time. Both men, cognizant of what the other liked, brought each other to the brink of their climaxes rather quickly as their moans echoed off the tiled bathroom walls, spilling into each other's hand in record time.

Blaine was the first to speak. "That was—"

"Intense?" Kurt guessed.

"Hmm, intense," Blaine concurred as he wobbled over to the sink to get cleaned up.

"You don't think I'm a slut, do you?" Kurt asked him anxiously. "It's just I was going _out of my mind_ and I know I should have done a better job at—"

"Kurt," Blaine interrupted him. "We've been over this. You really think that I wasn't suffering all day too? I've had a lot of practice perfecting my poker face, but that doesn't mean I'm still not feeling anything underneath."

Kurt searched Blaine's face for any trace of dishonesty, but found nothing but earnestness. He sighed. "I'm sorry. This is uncharted territory for me. I don't want to screw this up either, you know."

"I know," Blaine smiled and passed him a damp paper towel as he tucked himself back into his pants and pulled the Superman costume back up his body.

Kurt froze. His cock made a valiant attempt at hardening again from the vision before him.

Blaine noticed Kurt's stare. "Please don't tell me I have cum on my pants."

Kurt chuckled and relaxed considerably. "No, it's just, nice to look at. The suit under your work clothes, I mean."

Blaine rolled his eyes good-naturedly and pressed a kiss into Kurt's cheek. "You and the suit."

"That reminds me," Kurt began as he finished making himself look presentable for the workplace. "We have to discuss what we're going to do about you being same person as this Mystery Guy I keep telling Mercedes and Tina about."

Blaine looked confused, but Kurt wasn't the slightest bit convinced. "Don't pretend like you weren't listening."

He dropped the face and blushed slightly. "You're right. I don't do that all the time, mind you, I only did it today because I wanted to get our stories straight."

"Uh huh. I'm sure it has nothing to do with you checking up on me to see if I'm still smoking," Kurt retorted.

"I'm really happy that you're not," Blaine offered in a small but sincere voice.

"Well, it's not worth losing you over," Kurt remarked, trying to keep his tone nonchalant.

Blaine pulled him in again for another kiss, this one gentler and more expressive than their previous tongue-fucking. "Do you want to come over tonight? I'll probably be done with you-know-what by nine. We can talk about what we're going to do about Mystery Guy and whatnot."

"Sur-sure," Kurt faltered, not totally recovered from the passion of Blaine's kiss as he allowed the hero to lead him toward the door.

When they had reached the door, Blaine checked the time on Kurt's watch. "3:43. Would you look at that. We almost made it the full day. I thought for sure that one of us would have jumped the other's bones by lunch at the latest."

**A/N: So, this wasn't my favorite chapter, but you all have been so lovely that I had to give you **_**something**_**. For the next chapter, I'm thinking about delving into Blaine's past, which would involve a long-ass flashback and various Smallville allusions. Is that something y'all would like to see? I don't want to bore you all with character development, but these scenes keep writing themselves in my mind! Let me know, I crave your approval and feedback like Kurt craves designer clothing. **

**Hearts and Stars,**

**Youngandobsessed**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: I'm sorry this took so long! I seriously had ADD when I was writing this, plus it's over ten-thousand words, since I really meant it when I said there was going to be a long-ass flashback. For those who aren't familiar with Smallville, Kristin Kreuk is Lana, Sam Jones III is Pete Ross, Allison Mack is Chloe Sullivan, and Eric Johnson is Whitney. Oh, and Lana lives with her Aunt Nell because her parents died when she was young. And one other thing…OVER 200 REVIEWS! (Thanks again to MysteriousPerson101). You all have been so patient, I'll stop rambling and let you read…**

Chapter 13

Kurt waltzed into Blaine's apartment with the key he had slipped him at the end of the workday and an arm full of groceries. He was early, Blaine wouldn't be back for another hour and a half, but Kurt had plans. They included him whipping up a killer ratatouille, a couple glasses of a Cotes-du-Roussillon Kurt had found at Chelsea Market, and _maybe_ a little snooping. Kurt wasn't planning on going through Blaine's closets, but Kurt did take his time studying the framed photos scattered around his apartment. His favorite was a shot of a group of boys in front of a pair of tall, black wrought iron gates, arms around each other laughing and smiling blithely, all dressed in blue blazers with red piping, striped ties, and grey dress slacks. Kurt deduced that that must have been the high school uniform Blaine had been referring to yesterday. Speaking of the superhero, Kurt spotted Blaine in the middle of the pack. His hair was longer than he kept it nowadays, and the ear-to-ear grin he was sporting denoted that he was completely free of responsibility and anxiety, unlike the frowns and grimaces Kurt occasionally caught plaguing Blaine's features.

"Honey, I'm home!" he heard Blaine's voice call. Kurt immediately straightened up. Blaine appeared a second later clad in Superman attire.

_I could get used to this, _Kurt thought to himself. He never pegged himself as the housewife type, but it had been so long since Kurt had anyone to take care of anyone but himself, so he couldn't help but savor the feeling.

Blaine closed the distance between them and swept Kurt into a kiss. He looked over Kurt's shoulder and saw the set table. "Kurt, you didn't have to make me dinner."

"But I wanted to," Kurt claimed.

"I don't want you to feel obligated—"

"I _don't_ feel obligated," he insisted. "I _like _doing stuff like this, Blaine."

"I appreciate that, but still—"

"Blaine," Kurt cut him off. "I don't have some sort of June Cleaver complex, okay? It's just…cooking is the way I show people I care. After my mom died, my dad wasn't much of a cook, there were a lot of frozen dinners for a while, so I took it upon myself to learn. Then in high school, he had a heart attack and—"

"Oh Kurt, I'm so sorry—"

"It's okay. But when that happened, there was so much that I couldn't control, I felt so helpless, but the one thing I _could _do was make him a meal. And I've been on my own for so long, and I really like cooking Blaine, so let me have my cooking."

"Of course," Blaine smiled and pecked him on the cheek. "It looks delicious, by the way."

They made their way over to the table. "I kept the French theme, so I whipped us up some ratatouille."

"I've seen that movie too!"

"Seriously, Blaine, you have s_o_ much to learn," Kurt laughed as he took his seat. "Oh, shoot! I need to light the candles."

"No, it's okay, I got it," Blaine stopped him. He concentrated on the candles for a second before they ignited.

Kurt's eyes widened momentarily. "Show off."

They chatted about each other's days as they ate. Once they finished, Blaine insisted on cleaning up, then he joined Kurt on the couch with a glass of wine.

"So, you must have been here for a while," Blaine said, settling on the sofa in yet another Ohio State t-shirt and flannel pajama pants.

"Yeah, I got here a little after seven," Kurt told him.

"Did you find my circus porn collection?"

"_What?"_

"I'm kidding," he laughed. Kurt exhaled in relief.

"I did see this, though." Kurt reached across the couch and grabbed the picture of Blaine in high school.

Blaine looked at the photo and smiled. "That was right after we won Sectionals junior year."

"Your acapella group?"

"Yeah. Three of the best years of my life."

Kurt's brow furrowed and he cocked his head in confusion. "Three?"

"Oh, I transferred in. I went to Westerville High my freshmen year," Blaine clarified.

"Why'd you transfer?"

Blaine hesitated. "I had…there were some…issues."

"Issues?"

"I don't want to get into the whole sob story," Blaine said, trying to brush it off.

Kurt gave a Blaine a look that translated to _if you don't tell me the sob story, I'll give you something else to sob about. _Blaine sighed in resignation and began, "Well I realized…who I was…when I was fifteen, just before I started high school. But I wasn't naïve, I'd read the Laremie Project, I knew what happened to guys like me in towns like Westerville, so figured my best bet was to lay low, blend in, and wait until college. You know, since puberty wasn't bad enough with the superpowers, let's add a dash of homosexuality to make it interesting."

Kurt chuckled.

"So, one of the requirements of being a straight male at Westerville High was having a crush on this girl, her name was Lana Lang…"

"_Hey dude," Pete elbowed Blaine, jarring him from packing up his book bag for the day. Blaine turned to face the dark-skinned boy who had been his best friend since kindergarten. "Check it out," Pete cocked his head to the left. Blaine's line of vision followed Pete's nod, and found Lana perched on a ladder hanging top corner of a banner promoting this year's homecoming dance. At first, Blaine wasn't sure what he was supposed to be looking at, but as Lana leaned over to tape the corner into place, he realized that her position gave one a spectacular view of her butt. _

"_Oh, uh, nice," Blaine muttered, pausing to admire with Pete. _

"_Tell me about it. What I'd give to tap tha—"_

"_What are we looking at?" a female voice interrupted Pete. A second later, Chloe Sullivan sidled up next to the two boys. "Ugh, really, guys? Can't Lana Lang spread some school spirit without you two eyeing her up like a piece of meat?"_

"_Way to ruin the moment, Sullivan," Pete grumbled as he shouldered his athletic bag. "I guess I should be heading to practice anyway. Catch you later Blaine! Chloe…"_

"_Sometimes I wonder why we hang out with him because honestly, Pete can be so—" Chloe looked over at Blaine, who was staring after Pete with a longing look. "Um, Blaine? You've got a little drool on your chin."_

_Blaine snapped out of his daze. "Wh-what?" he inquired, wiping his chin self-consciously. _

"_Remind me why you didn't try out for the football team again? I mean, if they let _Pete _in, I'm sure you have made it," said Chloe._

"_I can't play. I have a medical condition," Blaine lied. _

"_A medical condition?"_

"_Yeah…asthma." _

"_But you never seem to get winded in gym class," Chloe pointed out. Blaine silently cursed her astuteness._

"_Yeah…um, it's only a problem when I'm active for long periods of time," he covered. "I probably wouldn't make it through practice without being reduced to a wheezing mess."_

"_Oh," Chloe replied, her tone betraying that she wasn't totally convinced, but had dismissed it anyway, "Well, are you still going to come to The Torch meeting with me?"_

"_Yep," Blaine assured her, shutting his locker and flashing her a smile._

_Chloe instinctively smiled in return. "Good. The football team is so overrated anyway," she said as they began to walk to the school newspaper office. "In ten years, most of those guys are going to be washed-up has-beens stuck in this poe-dunk town while you and I will be working for The Daily Planet or The Washington Post." _

"_I guess so," Blaine agreed half-heartedly as they passed under the recently hung homecoming sign. _

"_Are you going to that by the way?" Chloe inquired, motioning to the banner. _

"_Homecoming? No, I was planning on sitting it out. Why?" _

"_No reason," Chloe replied a little too quickly. "I was just curious to see what other freshmen were going. I mean, I don't think I'm going to go either, I mean, talk about _overrated_."_

"_Totally," Blaine replied, the two teens sharing a smile._

_Chloe's gaze lingered on her friend. She quickly snapped herself out of it and changed the subject as they neared The Torch's office. "Ready to become an intrepid reporter, Blaine?"_

_0-0-0_

"_So, are you going to go to homecoming?" Pete asked Blaine as they navigated the crowded hallways together on their way to fourth period. _

"_I thought I'd go to the game, you know, to cheer on all of your strenuous bench-warming," Blaine smirked. _

"_Shut up," Pete laughed, giving his friend a playful shove. "I meant the dance."_

"_No," Blaine told him. "Are you going?"_

"_Not sure yet," Pete replied as he recovered from a shoulder-check from a burly senior. "I was kind of thinking about asking Chloe."_

"Chloe?" _Blaine's tone was incredulous._

"_Not as a date thing, as more of a friend thing, just so I wouldn't have to go alone. You could come with us, we could all go together, as friends." _

_Blaine raised a thick eyebrow. "I'll think about it." They had reached the honors Chemistry classroom. "See you at lunch?"_

"_Yeah," confirmed Pete, leaving Blaine at the doorway to continue on to Spanish. "Say hi to Lana for me."_

_It was Blaine's turn to jostle Pete. "Get out of here, Ross."_

"_Whatever. Get on that, Anderson!" Pete called before he was swallowed up into the herd of students changing classes. _

_Blaine took his seat at the front of the class which happened to be right next to Lana herself. Even though they were only a foot apart, they never interacted. Lana's friend, Peyton occupied the seat on the other side of the cheerleader, so her back was always turned to Blaine for the majority of the lesson. Blaine unpacked his binder and grabbed a pencil as he waited with the rest of the class for their teacher to arrive. _

"_Hello, class," Ms. Brown greeted the students as she emerged from the supply closet in the back of the room near the lab tables. The lesson passed uneventfully, Blaine took careful notes as usual, until the end of the period. "Tomorrow we will be starting our first lab," the teacher announced. "So remember not to wear anything too nice and girls, make sure you can tie your hair back and no dangly jewelry. I'll be assigning partners—" the students collectively groaned "—hey! No complaints! I'll let you pick for the next lab. Okay, let's see here, Bobby and Jill, Brooke and Lucas…"_

_Blaine let his mind wander as the teacher continued to call out lab partners. _Is Pete really going to ask Chloe to homecoming? Should I ask someone?_ Blaine ran through the list of girls he was speaking terms with, it wasn't a long one. What girl would want to—_

"…_Blaine and Lana…"_

_The mention of his name shook Blaine from his thoughts. He looked at Ms. Brown with disbelief and then at Lana. She seemed surprised too, but unlike Blaine's expression of pure shock, hers seemed to be tinged with disappointment. Lana glanced over at him, their eyes meeting fleetingly, Blaine smiled at her sheepishly then broke the eye contact, suddenly very interested in his notes from today's lecture. _Pete isn't going to believe this…

_0-0-0_

"_I _hate _you, man! And I was even recommended for Chem honors!" Pete lamented at lunch._

"_You are so delusional, Pete! What do you think, just because Blaine and Lana are lab partners that she's suddenly going to fall in love with him? You seem to be forgetting that she's dating _Whitney Fordman_," Chloe reminded her friend._

_Whitney Fordman. He was tall, blonde, a senior, the star of the football team…basically everything Blaine wasn't. And Lana was beautiful, popular, and a cheerleader. They were a match made in high school heaven. Pete really was delusional if he thought Blaine had a chance at a girl like Lana, and then there was the fact that deep down, Blaine just wasn't all that interested. _

"_My sister says that Whitney can't keep a girlfriend for more than two months," Pete informed her. "Then my main man Blaine will be the shoulder Lana needs to cry on and _then_ he'll make his move."_

"_Just so we're all on the same page here, can Cameron Diaz play me in this fantasy version of your life?" Chloe deadpanned. _

"_Yeah, and that guy…oh! I want Freddie Prinze Jr. to play me," Blaine joined in, laughing._

_0-0-0_

"_Okay class, pair up with your partners and we'll get started," Ms. Brown instructed the class the following day._

_The students shuffled to the back half of the classroom where the lab tables were. Blaine grabbed an empty one and waited for Lana to join him. _

"_Hey, Blaine," she addressed him pleasantly._

"_H-hi Lana," he stammered back, having trouble maintaining eye contact with her. An awkward silence ensued before Lana suggested they get started. The lab went smoothly for the most part, they were required to start over since Lana hadn't set the Bunsen burner to the correct temperature and their solution had been ruined. It was surprising to discover that there was something Lana Lang _didn't_ excel at. _

"_Wow," remarked Lana, she had resigned herself to just watching Blaine complete the rest of the lab and handing him materials when she could. "You're really good at this."_

"_I guess I just have a knack for science," he told her with a self-effacing blush as he measured the additional hydrogen peroxide, stirring a couple times, and waiting for the reaction to take place. "There we go!" _

"_Finally," Lana sighed, taking notes to describe the correct reaction. "And not a minute too soon, the period's almost over. Sorry about putting us behind, Chemistry isn't really my calling."_

"_It's okay," Blaine assured her cheerily, scribbling down some notes of his own._

"_Alright, class, clean up your stations before leaving. Everything should look like it did when you entered the classroom today," Ms. Brown told the class. "Lab reports are due next Tuesday."_

"_See you tomorrow, Blaine," smiled Lana as they exited the classroom once their station was straightened up. _

"_Yeah, um, sounds good," Blaine replied. She was just about to leave Blaine called out "Hey Lana!"_

"_Yes?" _

"_If you need any help on the lab report, I'd be happy to give you a hand."_

_Surprise swept over Lana's face. "Are you sure?" _

Not really, _Blaine thought to himself. "Yes."_

"_Well, thanks. I have cheer until five tomorrow, so any time after then should work for me," Lana told him. _

"_Do you want to meet at my place at six, then?" offered Blaine. _

"_Sure," she concurred. _

"_Okay, great. It's a date!" Blaine instantly regretted his word choice. "I mean, not a _date-_date, a study-date."_

"_Yeah, I assumed so," Lana chuckled. "See you around, Blaine."_

_Blaine raised his hand in a lame attempt at saying goodbye. _Jeez, for someone who thinks they like guys, you're a total freak show around girls, _he grumbled inwardly. _Maybe you're not all that into guys, or just certain guys, like Justin Timberlake and Ryan Phillippe. _Blaine reasoned with himself on his way to the cafeteria. _And maybe you're only into certain girls, like Lana. What does that make me, bi? Well, it doesn't matter, because the only gender you're going to be doing an 'experimenting' with is girls until college at the earliest. And if you think you're going to do any experimenting with _Lana Lang_, you're just as delusional as Pete, _Blaine told himself. Fortunately, he had reached the lunchroom by now and was more than eager to be distracted by Chloe's latest investigation into the supernatural, or Pete's recount of football practice than to ponder his sexuality anymore. _

_0-0-0_

"_Blaine," Martha Kent said as her son zipped around their home in a blur. "Blaine…_BLAINE_!" _

"_What?" Blaine appeared in front of her. She could tell that he was itching to get moving again. _

"_What's going on? You're all over the place…wait, did you actually _brush your hair_?" _

"_Someone's coming over," Blaine informed his mother, his eyes averted and his tone impatient. "I was just getting ready." _

"_Is this someone a _girl_ by any chance?" Martha inquired, a smirk playing on her lips._

"_Maybe," Blaine grunted. It was beginning to look as if it was paining him to stand still. _

"_And who is this girl?" his mother pressed. _

"_Lanalang," Blaine said in a garbled rush. _

"_Lana Lang?" she repeated. "No wonder."_

"Mom_," Blaine whined as fidgeted. _

"_Okay, okay! You're dismissed," she laughed as Blaine vanished in a flurry of motion._

_Lana arrived at six on the dot. Her raven hair was still wet from her post-practice shower and she was dressed more casually than at school. Blaine ushered her into the loft in the family barn where spent most of his time. _

"_This is a cool spot," Lana commented as she climbed the wide wooden stairs. _

"_Not bad for a barn, right?" Blaine joined in. "If you don't like it, we could always move to the kitchen or something." _

"_It's fine," she assured him, plopping down on the couch. "Should we get started?"_

_The next hour passed by quicker than Blaine realized. Both freshmen worked diligently on their respective reports, Blaine patiently fielding all of Lana's questions and helping her to find the answers. They finished an hour and a half later._

"_Thank you for all your help, Blaine," Lana said, gathering her belongings. "I'm sorry that this was more along the lines of a tutoring session for you, I didn't mean to take advantage—"_

"_Hey," Blaine interjected. "I offered, remember? Like I said, I'm happy to help. Are you sure you don't want to stay for dinner? I promise my parents aren't completely insufferable." _

_Lana smiled kindly as she pulled on her jacket. "My aunt insisted that I be home for dinner tonight." She noted Blaine's crestfallen expression. "Some other time?"_

"_Cool," Blaine grinned dopily. _

_0-0-0_

_Peyton sighed as she shut her locker with a little more force than necessary. _

"_Okay, what's wrong?" Lana asked as they began to make their way to honors Chem. _

"_Ugh, homecoming is in two weeks and I still don't have a date," she complained. "You're so lucky you have a boyfriend. All my potential dates are either taken or jerks."_

"_What about Blaine Anderson?" Lana suggested._

"_What about him?"_

"_He's a nice guy, I know he kind of keeps to himself, but I had a surprisingly good time working on the lab report with him last night. Plus, he's pretty cute."_

"_Woah, woah, woah, wait," Peyton turned to her friend. "Lana, you have a boyfriend."_

"_I know," Lana replied, bemused by severity of Peyton's reaction. "That's why I was saying that _you _should ask him to homecoming, not me."_

"_But you said he was cute," Peyton pointed out. _

"_From an objective standpoint, yes," Lana replied, her cheeks reddening slightly. "Just because I'm dating Whitney doesn't mean I don't know a cute guy when I see one."_

"_Oh my God, you have a thing for him, don't you?" she practically shrieked. _

"_Whitney's my boyfriend, of course I have a thing for him," Lana told her defensively. _

"_We both know that I wasn't referring to Whitney."_

_Lana conceded. "Blaine's just…different from what I expected. He actually listens when I speak, he's polite—"_

"_And Whitney isn't?" _

"_Well, not all the time," Lana admitted._

"_Maybe you're the one who should take Blaine to homecoming then," Peyton said. "Besides, I think if I can get Michael Hamilton to be lab partners with me, I can get him to take me to the dance."_

_Lana responded with a noncommittal hum, lost in her own thoughts about Peyton had said to her. _

_0-0-0_

_The next two weeks were weird for Blaine. Like in Chemistry, Lana would make conversation with Blaine instead of devoting all of her attention to Peyton before and after class. She even greeted him in the hallway in passing. But the cherry on top of the weirdness sundae had come during fourth period. They were starting another lab in class, and as promised, the students were allowed to pick their partners. _

"_Hey, Blaine," Lana had leaned over to address him. _

"_Yeah, Lana?" _

"_Do you want to be lab partners?" _

_Blaine shook his head. He must have heard wrong. "What?" _

"_I was wondering if you wanted to be lab partners. I thought we made a pretty good team last time," she said. _

"_But, Peyton—"_

"_She's trying to get Michael Hamilton to ask her to homecoming. I've been officially ditched…not that that's the reason why I'm asking you, I was going to ask you anyway—"_

"_I'd love to be partners, Lana," Blaine beamed. "Let's go find a lab table." _

_That's how they had ended up here, in Blaine's loft again, finishing in another lab report. Blaine was sitting on the floor while Lana was sprawled out on the couch._

"_God, Blaine, I can't thank you enough for helping me with these labs," Lana groaned as she sat up. "I _hate_ Chemistry." _

"_Strong words coming from someone in the honors section," Blaine remarked. _

"_Well, honors was Nell's doing, not mine. She _insisted_ on me taking all honors classes. If it were up to me, I'd just stick to honors English and History. I know she wants what's best for me, but…for once I'd like to feel like I'm in control of my own destiny, you know?"_

"_You have no idea," Blaine agreed a tinge too enthusiastically. "I'm guessing Nell wants you home for dinner again?"_

_A small guilty grin spread across Lana's full lips. "It's not that she doesn't trust you. Honestly, I think she's still a little bitter that your dad dumped her back in high school." _

"_I still can't believe they dated," Blaine said as he helped Lana gather her things. "Do think she'd let me walk you home?"_

"_I don't think she could object to such a chivalrous gesture," Lana replied playfully. _

_Blaine and Lana spent the mile walk from the Anderson farm to the Lang household chatting casually in the chilly October evening air. _

"_You know, this is the longest conversation we've ever had that hasn't revolved around Chemistry," Lana mentioned as the couple strolled up the driveway. _

"_Hm, yeah, I guess it is," Blaine replied._

"_We should do it again sometime," suggested Lana. _

"_We should," Blaine concurred. A brief silence ensued as he worked up the courage to ask Lana the question that had been on his mind for the past two weeks. "Are you going to the homecoming dance?"_

"_I am, with Whitney," she told him, her tone firm but somehow sympathetic at the same time. _

"_Right," Blaine said. He couldn't recall the last time he'd felt so stupid. "Of course."_

"_Are going to go?" Lana inquired. _

"_Nah, I was planning on skipping it," Blaine answered. "I don't have a date."_

"_Well, if you change your mind, I might save you a dance," Lana told him. She pressed a kiss into Blaine's cheek. "Good night, Blaine."_

"_G'Night, Lana," he exhaled in reply as Lana disappeared into her house. He jogged to the end of the Lang's driveway, and only when he was sure there wasn't anyone around sped home. Only tonight, running didn't seem like enough. He knew it was impossible, but Blaine felt like flying. _

_0-0-0_

Well, if you change your mind, I might save you a dance. _The words echoed in his mind endlessly as he watched Lana, the newly crowned Homecoming Queen, slow-dance with her boyfriend, the Homecoming King. To be honest, her words were the only reason Blaine had showed up to the dance that night. Lana was his only chance, his only chance at being normal. Blaine's extraterrestrial origins and his subsequent abilities already made him enough of a freak. The last thing he wanted or needed was to be gay and add to the burden of secrets already resting on his shoulders. Since Lana was the only girl he felt anything romantic for, Blaine was ready to do almost anything to be with her. _

"_Hey Blaine!" Pete called as he and Chloe made their way through the crowd to where Blaine was standing on the edge of the dance floor. _

"_Hey guys," Blaine greeted them, unable to keep himself from sounding dejected. "Having fun?"_

"_Well, you're certainly not," observed Chloe. "Come on, Anderson, dance with me." _

"_No way," Blaine immediately refused his friend. "I don't dance." _

"_Oh come on, man," Pete argued. "You haven't even stepped on the floor the whole night. We were beginning to wonder why you showed up in the first place."_

"_Homecoming's an important high school rite of passage," Blaine said lamely. _

"_Just one dance, Blaine," Chloe pleaded. "Please?"_

_Blaine stopped to think it over. It couldn't hurt, in fact, maybe he was making himself too available for Lana. If he danced with Chloe, _maybe_, just _maybe_, Lana would be tempted to make good on her offer. _

"_Okay, Chloe, you win," Blaine surrendered as he allowed the blonde to drag him onto the dance floor. He placed a hand on Chloe's slim waist, clasped hers with his other one, and began to sway. It started out a little awkwardly, but after a minute or two, Blaine began to lose himself in the music and his moves grew more confident. Apparently he was doing something right, because Chloe couldn't stop beaming and giggling in a very un-Chloe-like way. _

"_You're a liar, Blaine Anderson," she shouted over the pumping bass and the whoops of their peers. "You are an _amazing_ dancer. What other secrets are you hiding under that mop top of yours?"_

_Blaine laughed off her accusation and twirled her instead of answering her question. He pulled her in close and told her sincerely, "You look really pretty tonight, Chloe." _

_Chloe's breath caught in her thought as her blue-green eyes bore into Blaine's, paralyzed by his compliment. "Th-thank you. You look very…um, dapper." _

_The moment was ruined when the song ended and Blaine felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around and was met with the sight of Lana, a vision in her pale pink ball gown and tiara. _

"_I was wondering if I could have this dance," she quickly glanced over at a shell-shocked Chloe. "If that's okay with you, I don't want to interrupt—"_

"_You weren't," Chloe cut her off, her voice suddenly sounding thick. "Go ahead, Blaine, dance with her."_

"_Thanks Chloe," he told her, not even sparing a look back at his friend, completely missing her heartbroken expression, allowing Lana to lead him away from her. "Catch you later." _

_Blaine and Lana danced the next few songs together, earning quite a few incredulous looks from their classmates. But no one was more astonished than Blaine at what happened when a slow song began to play. _

"_Where are you going, Blaine?" Lana asked as Blaine as he started to break their embrace. _

"_It's a slow song, Lana," he informed her, confused that she wasn't catching on that it was his cue to go. _

"_And…?"_

"_And…I just figured…where's Whitney?" Blaine spluttered. _

"_Probably drinking with the rest of the football team behind the dumpsters," Lana sighed exasperatedly. _

"_You really want to dance with me?" _

_Lana simply nodded, her eyes boring into his, and Blaine couldn't help but notice how their color was so similar to his. He gulped and pulled her flush against his body, circling his arms around her waist. Lana didn't waste any time wrapping her arms around his neck and resting her head on his chest. They side-stepped in unison as the cheesy ballad the DJ had chosen played. _

_The song ended and Lana lifted her head from where it had been leaning on Blaine's chest. _

"_Thanks for the dance, Lana," Blaine told her softly. _

"_I… Blaine," she replied breathless, her brow knitted from seemingly troubling thoughts. "Can I try something?'_

_Blaine didn't get a chance to verbally reply before Lana's lips had connected to Blaine's. And no, there weren't any fireworks like he'd heard so much about, but Blaine couldn't deny that the kiss didn't feel bad. It felt nice. Lana's lips began to move, and Blaine mirrored her actions eagerly, too immersed in the liplock to notice the stunned gasps coming from the other students, or the gym doors opening…_

"_WHAT THE FUCK? ANDERSON, WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING WITH MY GIRLFRIEND?" _

_Blaine and Lana immediately jumped apart. Whitney along with three of his cronies were barreling toward them, a look of rage amplified by alcohol twisting the blonde boy's features. _

"_YOU LITTLE PIECE OF SHIT!" Whitney bellowed and proceeded to punch Blaine square in the jaw. It hurt. _It never hurts_, Blaine thought to himself frantically, _why does it hurt? _Rubbing his jaw, Blaine glimpsed the hand that had just hit him. Sitting on Whitney's ring finger was his class ring, an ornate silver band with a green gemstone in the middle. All hopes of Blaine defending himself had been sent sailing out the window as soon as he saw that stone. "I'M GOING TO KICK YOUR SCRAWNY ASS!"_

_At this point, Lana tried to intervene. She leapt in between the two boys. "Whitney! Stop! This wasn't his fault—"_

"_Shut up, Lana," he spat at her, shoving her out of the way. "Nothing you say is going to change the fact that Anderson's about to get the shit beaten out of him."_

"_No!" Lana threw herself at her boyfriend. "Stop it! NOW, Whitney! If you hurt him, I swear I'll—"_

_Whitney was too far gone in his drunken fury to register Lana's threats. He grabbed Blaine by the collar of his shirt and blazer and dragged him out of the gym, the rest of the students parting like the Red Sea in order to let Whitney and his three goons pass. Pete, Chloe, and Lana tried to chase after them, but the football players had already thrown Blaine in the back of one their trucks and taken off before the trio could catch up. _

_Blaine could feel the meteor rock crippling him the through the cab of the truck as it drove to the outskirts of town. Its effects seemed to be worsening as they continued to drive and Blaine dreaded where they might taking him. The truck screeched to a stop, the blaring metal song the men were listening to turned off, and as they hauled Blaine out of the flatbed, his worst fears were confirmed. They had arrived at Riley Field, the place where his parents had found him twelve years ago, the place that had the highest concentration of meteor rock in all of Westerville. Blaine was fucked. _

_The four football players dragged Blaine through the seemingly endless rows of corn stalks until they reached a wooden post that was usually used for hanging scarecrows. Two guys from Whitney's posse, Sean Calvin and Jeff Johnson, restrained his arms while Derek Fox looked on with twisted enjoyment as Whitney rolled up his sleeves and readied himself to beat up Blaine._

"_Who the fuck do you think you are, Anderson?" Whitney demanded as he delivered the first blow to Blaine's gut. "You do my girlfriend's homework a couple times so that means you put the moves on her at fucking homecoming dance? I swear, the freshmen this year are a bunch of arrogant sons of bitches. Let me make myself really clear then," Whitney halted his beating to fist his hands in Blaine's shirt and yank him they were eye-to-eye. "Lana is _mine_, and if I ever catch you near her again you won't make it to sophomore year, you little bastard." He released Blaine with a shove and a sardonic laugh. "You know, it's funny, I had you pegged as a homo, Anderson." Whitney's friends sniggered along with him. "I don't know what's worse, messing with my girl or liking dick." He kicked Blaine. "Stupid little fag. We're going to make an example out of you."_

_They proceeded to strip Blaine down to his boxers and strung him up onto the post. _

"_Go fuck yourself, Anderson," Whitney spat before he and his chums left, cackling and shouting homophobic slurs until they were out of range. _

_Blaine began to sob hysterically as he shivered in the biting autumn cold. Part of his weeping had to do with the pain, being exposed to meteor rock was debilitating enough, but the agony was increased ten-fold by the beating he had received. With meteor rock around, the pain refused to ebb and heal. But the better part of Blaine's crying had to do with the irony of the situation. All Blaine had wanted was to fit in, to feel normal for once in his life, but no matter what he did, it seemed that he was harassed no matter what. That enraged him. He struggled against his bonds, yet he too weak from the meteor rock to have any effect on the tightly tied ropes around his arms and legs. _Wait until I'm away from this godforsaken rock_, Blaine vowed to himself, _I'm going to make those assholes pay, I'm going to tear them apart…

_The cops found Blaine a few hours later. Pete and Chloe had made the trip out to Riley Field with Blaine's parents, but Lana was nowhere to be seen. That had upset Blaine even more. The fact that this situation was technically Lana's fault, and yet she didn't care enough about Blaine to see if he was alright after what her jackass boyfriend had did to him. _

"_Mrs. Anderson, he needs to be taken to the hospital," Officer Hanover tried to tell a crying Martha as she embraced her son. She exchanged an uneasy glare with her husband. _

"_Let us get him home first," Jonathon Anderson negotiated with the officer. _

"_Are you sure, Jonathon?" the police man asked his friend. _

"_Trust me, Greg, I know my son," Jonathon assured him. "I'm more concerned about finding the punks who did this to him." _

"_We will, Jonathon. I'm sorry about all of this," he apologized._

"_I am, too" Jonathon replied somberly. He turned to Blaine's friends. "Chloe, Pete, it means the world to Blaine that you two came out here with us, but we're going to take him home now. If you want, you could stop by tomorrow if you like."_

"_Of course, Mr. Anderson," Chloe said before she and Pete headed back to her car. "We'll come by tomorrow for sure." _

_0-0-0_

"_Martha, it sounds wonderful, but how would we pay for it?" Blaine heard his father murmuring to his mother. "Take out another loan? We'd lose the farm if we fell behind on payments."_

"_This is our son's safety, Jonathon. Besides, the website said they offered scholarships. Blaine's a straight A student and with his…situation, I'm sure Dalton would understand. They have a—"_

"_Zero tolerance bullying policy, I know," Jonathon finished for his wife. "I still think we should talk to Blaine about it though before we make any decisions."_

_Blaine closed his bedroom door, he'd been sulking in his room since they had gotten home last night, he had heard enough. Blaine had never felt more like a burden in his life. His parents were considering put their home on the line just so he could be safe. They had always been so patient with him, so supportive of emerging abilities. He hated himself for not being the normal son they deserved. Jonathon had told him earlier this year that he was an alien, a freaking _alien_ with a spaceship stashed in the storm cellar and everything, and Blaine couldn't help but wonder if his…romantic inclinations were a part of his extraterrestrial makeup. Maybe he came from some freaky gay planet or something. _

_He knew one thing for sure, there was no way he was going to that Dalton school, no matter how badly his mother tried to convince him to go. Blaine was sick of being a liability. He'd wait for the day when Whitney wasn't wearing his class ring, and then he'd get his revenge. Blaine would show him who the stupid little fag was—_

_Blaine was shaken from his thoughts by a knocking on his bedroom door. He rose from his bed to answer it. "Mom, I told you I'm not hungry…"_

_But it wasn't his mother at his door. It was Lana. A disheveled, puffy-eyed Lana. "Blaine?" her voice sounded rough from crying. _

"_H-hi," he replied stunned. Lana had been the last person he was expecting to see. _

"_I just wanted to see how you were doing," she began shakily. Even though Blaine wasn't much taller than her, Lana seemed so small and fragile to him at the moment. "I…I made some cookies for you. They're downstairs if you want one."_

"_No, thanks. I'm good for now," he told her. She simply nodded in reply, visibly trying to fight back the tears that were brimming in her hazel eyes. "Do you want to come in?"_

"_I'm so sorry," Lana gasped, the tears she was struggling to restrain running down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry, Blaine. I didn't mean to…it was all my fault…and Whitney! I'm such an awful person…cheating on my boyfriend…and I was so scared…so scared of what they might do to you…and what _actually _they did to you…it was horrible…but I like you Blaine, really _really_ like you and…"she broke off into hyperventilating and wheezing. _

"_Shhhh," Blaine, acting completely on impulse, gently pulled Lana into his arms. She continued to sob, staining the white cotton of his t-shirt with her tears. "It's okay, Lana. I understand, I don't blame you. They were drunk and, not that that's an excuse, but Officer Hanover called this morning and said they're already taking care of it." _

_Lana looked up at Blaine. "It's over between us. I mean obviously, there'd be something seriously wrong with me if I stayed with him after he did something this awful. I'm just so sorry, Blaine." She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. "And I'm sorry that you're the one consoling me. I came here to comfort you and I couldn't even do that…"_

"_Don't worry about it," Blaine said, leading her over to his bed to sit down. "After last night, it's kind of nice to be the one doing the comforting."_

_Lana's lips twitched upward into a minute smile and she took a deep breath. "Are you okay? I heard they beat you up pretty badly and you never made it to the hospital."_

"_I'm alright, I have a pretty tough skin," Blaine replied, trying to keep his tone from betraying too much. "I don't regret it, you know."_

"_Regret what?" Lana questioned, her eyes still shining with a few lingering tears. _

"_The kiss."_

"_You don't?" Lana's tone was full of disbelief. "Really? Even after all that happened?"_

"_No. I've never felt the way I feel for you with any other girl, Lana," he confessed. _

"_Oh, Blaine," Lana exhaled before their lips met. The kiss was slow and tender, Blaine's eyes fluttered shut as he endeavored to lose himself in the kiss like Lana had, completely unaware that Chloe and Pete had just stepped into view. The duo stood dumbstruck in the doorway and just stared for moment before Pete tugged Chloe back downstairs, telling Mrs. Anderson that Blaine and Lana were "busy" and that they'd come back later when she had asked why they were leaving so soon. _

_0-0-0_

_Blaine didn't end up seeking revenge on Whitney and his sidekicks. Their arrest, court-mandated community service, and in-school suspension was a satisfactory amount of disciplinary action in his eyes (though he couldn't resist stacking the four boys' pickup trucks on top of each other at the next football game). Besides, he figured that losing Lana to him was the ultimate payback. Not that Blaine was only dating her out of spite, his affection for Lana was entirely genuine, and the couple had been going strong for three months. Blaine was an ideal boyfriend, handsome, polite, and thoughtful. There was just one small problem; he couldn't get aroused when he made out with Lana. At first, he didn't think it was too much of a dilemma, Blaine had never had a girlfriend before, and that if he gave the relationship some time, he'd develop _those_ feelings for Lana. Yet, here he was, three months in, and _those_ feelings had yet to arise. He had tried fantasizing about her when was alone, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get himself hard when he thought about her. Blaine knew he shouldn't be having this problem, he was a healthy teenage boy and Lana was the prettiest girl in school. Yet instead of dealing with what this meant, he opted to ignore it and maintain his charade. _

_He had a close call one clear but bitter afternoon in January. Blaine and Lana had gone to her place to do homework together. _

"_So, what do you want to start with? English or Chemistry?" Blaine asked, emptying his backpack, oblivious of the mischievous glint in Lana's eyes. _

"_Neither," she informed him as-a-matter-of-factly and drawing Blaine in for a hungry kiss, climbing into Blaine's lap as she did so._

_He let out a choked noise of surprise at Lana's sudden advances, extracting his lips from hers. "Nell would kill me if she found us doing this here." _

"_Well, it's a good thing she's at Garden Club until six then," Lana said in a sultry voice. Her hands began to slide down Blaine's button-down flannel shirt as she nipped at his neck. _

"_Still, I'm not sure if this is—_LANA_!" Blaine practically threw his girlfriend off of him when her hand had pressed into the front of his jeans. "What do you think you're doing?"_

"_I, um…" She hadn't been expecting Blaine to react like this. "Blaine, I can't tell you how much I appreciate how patient you've been with our relationship, how you've never pressured me to do anything, how you've always let me set the pace. But I just figured, you're a guy and—"_

"_Lana, I don't ever, _ever_ want you to feel obligated to do anything for me," he urged. _

"_But I don't feel obligated," she insisted. "I'm ready, Blaine. I want to take the next step in our relationship." _

"_Oh," Blaine said, trying to process what Lana had just told him. _

"_Maybe I should have told you that before I tried to grope you," Lana blushed and both teens laughed. _

_0-0-0_

_Even with Lana's admission, they still took the physical aspect of their relationship slowly during the following months. Blaine tried to make their make out sessions as much about Lana as possible, which on the surface seemed like he was a selfless lover, but in reality he did it so he wouldn't have to think of Ben Affleck to give off the impression that Blaine enjoyed Lana's ministrations. Yet, Blaine's straight charade came crashing down one night that spring at a party that Jason Jenkins and his older sister were having. Blaine had arrived alone, Lana had been competing at a horse show in Dayton that day and had made it to the finals in her event, therefore delaying her return to Westerville by a few hours. She told Blaine that she'd call him and meet him at the party later, so Blaine spent an hour or so hanging with Pete and other guys from school. When the conversation turned into an interrogation on what is was like to hook up with Lana Lang, Blaine decided it was time to excuse himself and get a drink. _

_He was leaving the kitchen when he saw him. The tall, lithe man that was leaning on the wall on the living room. His hair was a sandy, strawberry blonde color that framed his face in loose curls, his skin was pallid and fair, his eyes two orbs of a brilliant blue, his lips full and pouting, his jaw line strong and chiseled. Although he was definitely all man, he oozed maturity and sophistication, there was a boyish quality to his appearance as well. Blaine had stopped in the middle of his tracks to stare. The man's eyes momentarily caught Blaine's and the freshman was jolted back into reality. He immediately averted his gaze to his shoes, blushing furiously, and started to shuffle out of the room back to his friends. Blaine was so intent on not looking at the man again, that he hadn't seen him follow Blaine into the hallway. _

"_Hey handsome."_

_Blaine yelped and nearly shot up into the ceiling at the sound of the man's voice in such close proximity to him. He spun around hastily. _

"_H-hi." Blaine was surprised he could form coherent words. _

"_I saw you checking me out back there—"_

"_I wasn't checking you out!" Blaine exclaimed, his voice rising embarrassingly high. "You just…you looked like this person I know but then I got a closer look and then I realized you weren't…weren't the person I know, I mean."_

_The man cocked an eyebrow is skepticism and endearment. "Right. I'm supposed to believe that?" _

"_Ideally," Blaine groaned as he wondered if he could die from embarrassment. _

_The man laughed lightly. "I'm Jeremiah." _

"_Blaine."_

"_Well, Blaine, I was going to ask you if I could get you something stronger than Diet Coke, but since you weren't checking me out after all, I guess I'm going to have to rescind my offer," Jeremiah told him wryly. _

"_Oh, um…" Blaine didn't know how to reply. _

"_That was a joke, Blaine. I'm definitely getting you a beer now, you need some in alcohol in your system before you explode."_

_Blaine just continued to stare at him flabbergasted. Unfortunately for Jeremiah, alcohol didn't have any effect on Blaine, but nevertheless he managed to carry a semi-articulate conversation with the younger boy. Blaine learned that Jeremiah went to school with Jason's sister at Oberlin, where he was studying Biology. He worked at the Gap (and was recently promoted to Junior Manager) at the local mall to afford the study abroad trip to Germany he was planning. _

"_I can't imagine what it must be like to be gay in a town like Westerville," mused Jeremiah, setting down his beer. _

"_Oh, uh, I'm not gay," Blaine said. He was only met with Jeremiah's unconvinced glare. "I have a girlfriend."_

_Jeremiah snorted. "You can be gay and have a girlfriend, Blaine, it's called being in the closet." _

_Blaine scrambled to defend himself but was only capable of producing a few strangled sounds of protest. _

_Jeremiah remained unfazed by Blaine's discomfort. "Tell you what, I'm kind of drunk and you're pretty cute, so I'll help you out."_

"_What do you mean, 'help me out'?" Blaine inquired anxiously. _

"_I'm going to help to find out if you're gay or not. We'll go upstairs and fool around, and if you're not into it, then congratulations, you're straight. But if you are into it…well, we'll take it from there."_

_Blaine wanted to, _really_ wanted to. However, he hesitated. There was no turning back if he did this, and Lana…Blaine wished that he wasn't invulnerable to alcohol, he could really use some clouded judgment at the moment. "Oh-okay."_

_Blaine allowed Jeremiah to lead him through the crowded household, praying that no one recognized him as the older man led him upstairs and into the first empty bedroom they found. Blaine joined Jeremiah, perched on the edge of the bed, uneasy and unsure how to begin. _

"_Blaine, _relax_," Jeremiah chuckled. "And come here, I can't kiss you from all the way over there."_

_Blaine let out a nervous laugh and leaned in closer, leaving Jeremiah to close the distance between their lips. _

_Fireworks. Blaine felt fireworks explode inside of him as his lips moved with Jeremiah's…as well as dick spring to attention. He gasped as they broke apart for air. _

"_So, what's the verdict?" Jeremiah murmured. _

"_Gay," Blaine panted. "One hundred percent gay." _

_They sought each other's mouths again almost immediately, their tongues tangling, as Jeremiah eased Blaine down on the bed and climbed on top of him. He moaned at the contact of the bulge in his pants with against Jeremiah's groin. Jeremiah began rocking his hips, bringing both men to full hardness rather quickly. _

_Blaine was content to keep frotting and making out all night, but Jeremiah apparently had other ideas as he snaked a hand between their sweltering bodies. _

"_This okay?" he huffed into Blaine's ear._

_Blaine nodded. "Uh-huh."_

_Jeremiah rolled off him slightly and began to undo Blaine's jeans. His eyes screwed shut and he gulped down a few steadying breaths as Jeremiah freed Blaine's erection from its cloth confines._

"_Happy birthday to me," Jeremiah muttered flippantly at the sight of Blaine's cock. "Definitely glad you're on our team." He circled his hand around Blaine's length and began to move with steady, measured strokes. _

_Blaine was torn from the throes of ecstasy caused by his first handjob by a muffled ringing. Jeremiah's hand stilled and he looked at him expectantly. "You going to answer that?"_

_Blaine procured the small black brick from back pocket and blanched as soon as he saw the number that was trying to reach him. 614-555-3982. Lana. All at once, the guilt and shame that Blaine had been shoving to the back of his mind engulfed him. _

"_I have to go," he said, on the verge of tears, as he tucked his now soft cock back into his pants and stood up. _

"_Blaine, what's going on? Why the sudden—"_

_But Blaine didn't answer him. He sped out of the bedroom and out of the house, not caring whether he exposed his abilities as he made his getaway. He didn't stop running until he reached the farm a few minutes later. _

_Jonathon and Martha were watching the news when they heard the slam of front door and their son's sobs from upstairs a moment later. They exchanged a concerned look and Jonathon got up from the couch to tend to his son. _

"_Blaine," Jonathon called through the door. _

"_Go away!" Blaine cried back. _

"Blaine_," he implored. "Can I come in?" Jonathon took the lack of objection as permission to enter. Blaine was splayed out on his bed, his face buried in his pillow, shaking with sobs. Jonathon took a seat at Blaine's side and rested a strong, supportive hand on his back. "You want to tell me what's going on?"_

"_I…I can't…" Blaine wept, turning his head so could make eye contact with his father. "I just _can't_…"_

"_Blaine, you know you can tell me everything."_

"_Not this."_

"_Why not?" _

"_Dad...if I told you...it'd change..."_

"_Blaine, you know I love no matter what. Nothing could change that ev—"_

"_I CHEATED ON LANA!" He bellowed before breaking down again. _

_He had to admit, Jonathon was thrown for an instant, but nevertheless, he pressed on in his calm, composed, fatherly manner. "Well, Blaine that doesn't sound like you, but I'm sure it's not hopeless."_

"_No, Dad. You don't understand!" Blaine griped, rolling over face-first into his tear-stained pillow again._

"_Well then, help me understand, Blaine," Jonathon kept his voice level but firm. _

_Blaine heaved a massive sigh and swung himself into a sitting position next to his father. He had never seen such a look of pain and fear on his son's face. "I didn't just cheat on Lana…" another gigantic inhalation "…I cheated on her with…with a guy."_

_Jonathon couldn't believe his ears. He almost wished that he had let Martha handle this one…but no, he could do this. Jonathon steeled himself. "Was this a spur-of-the moment thing or…had this been something you've been wanting to try…you know, for a while?"_

"_Both," Blaine voice was wavering again. _

"_Okay, and did you…well, did you enjoy it?"_

"_Yes," The volume of Blaine's answer had waned to nearly mute. _

"_And would you like to do it again?"_

_Blaine looked at his father and nodded. His bottom lip was wedged between his teeth biting back tears. "Are you mad?"_

"_Of course not," Jonathon assured him, pulling Blaine into an embrace and planting a kiss on the top of his head. "Son, your mother and I love you regardless of who you choose to love. We will always love and support who you are_._" _

_Blaine broke down again. "Dad…thank you…I…thank you so much…"_

"_Don't thank me, son. Thank you for being honest with me." _

_There was a knock from the doorway. Martha was leaning in the frame, a warm smile on her face. "Everything okay?"_

_Both men nodded and Martha joined them on the bed, drawing Blaine into her arms. _

"_Martha?" _

"_Hmm?"_

"_Do you still have the number for Dalton Academy?"_

_Blaine and Martha both gaped at Jonathon with identical looks of surprise. They responded at the same time, Martha with "I do", and Blaine with "Dad, you don't have to." _

"_No, Blaine. You already have to hide one aspect of who you are with your abilities, and you deserve to be in a place where you don't have to hide any more than you have to," Jonathon told him seriously. _

"_But, Dad, we can't afford Dalton," disputed Blaine. _

"_We figure something out," Jonathon contended._

_0-0-0_

_Blaine found it hard to believe that the beautiful, timeworn, and ornate building he was sitting in was part of a _school_. He felt like he was at The Xavier Institute from X-Men, or Hogwarts, or _something, _but it definitely wasn't Westerville High. Blaine, dressed in his Sunday Best, had a gone a tour of the school, aced his interview with the Headmaster, and now all that was left was to finalize things with the Director of Admissions, a kind woman by the name of Ms. Handler. _

"_Well, everything seems to be in order, there is just one matter we need to straighten out, and that's the matter of Blaine's scholarship," the woman said in a business-like tone. _

"_Is there something wrong with Blaine's grades?" Martha asked, panic flashing across her face. _

"_No! No, they're, well, they're perfect," she amended herself. "Our cashier's office was looking over his application and it seems your demonstrated need exceeds the maximum allotment of an academic scholarship."_

_All three members of the Anderson family digested what the woman had said with expressions ranging from anger to disappointment to despair. Before any of them could truly react properly, Ms. Handler continued. _

"_However, given Blaine's situation and how well he has taken to Dalton, we can offer him an extracurricular scholarship that would cover the rest of your need." The Andersons let out a collective sigh of relief. "Now, the only thing we need to figure out is what Blaine will participate in to fulfill the scholarship. Do you play any sports, Blaine?"_

"_Football."_

"No_." _

"_Dad," Blaine pleaded in quiet, tight voice. "I can control—"_

"_Blaine has a very severe case of asthma," Jonathon told the woman over his son's protests. "Sports are out of the question," he asserted, casting a warning glance at Blaine._

"_Well then," Ms. Handler said, breezing over the tension that had arisen between the father and son sitting across from her. "Is there anything else you like to do? Debate, Community Service, Music…"_

"_I can sing," he blurted out. His parents looked at him in astonishment. "Or I mean, I'd like to try to sing. I can play the piano and the guitar a little too." _

"_Wonderful! We have an acapella group here at Dalton, The Warblers, they perform at various school functions and compete at Show Choir competitions every year. Does that sound like something you'd be interested in being a part of, Blaine?" _

"_Definitely," Blaine responded without hesitation. _

"_Splendid," Ms. Handler grinned before jotting a note down onto a Post-It. "I'll contact one of The Council Members, the Warblers are a student run organization, and Wes, David, or Thad should be in touch with you within the week to set up an audition. Of course, if The Warblers don't work out, I can contact Mr. Owens and I'm sure we can set up something with the school orchestra as a back-up. Does that sound satisfactory to everyone?" Ms. Handler inquired, cautiously eyeing a still-speechless Martha and Jonathon. _

"_I guess so," said Martha, the first to recover. _

"_Great," Ms. Handler clapped her hands together with an air of finality. "Then let me be the first to say, Welcome to Dalton Academy, Blaine Anderson."_

"Wow," Kurt said, cradling his now-empty wine glass in his hand as he soaked it all in.

"I know," Blaine commiserated, "it has all the makings of a teen drama on the CW."

Kurt chuckled. "But things got better once you transferred to Dalton?"

"Exponentially," Blaine assured him. "I broke up with Lana before I transferred, and once I did, it was pretty much smooth sailing until graduation. It turned out I was a better singer than I thought, I ended up being the lead soloist my junior and senior years."

"_Of course_ you were," Kurt rolled his eyes good-humoredly and pecked Blaine on the lips. "Something tells me boys _and_ girls were throwing themselves at you left and right after they heard you sing."

Blaine blushed slightly. "There were a few guys in high school and college, but I never got too close to any of them because of my secret."

That piece of information shocked Kurt. "So I'm the first boyfriend you've ever told? I'm…" Kurt searched for the right word, but settled on "different?"

"Different, special, exceptional, beautiful…" Blaine listed breezily.

Kurt blushed. "Well, I don't know about that."

Blaine opted to try to convince Kurt he was with his actions rather than his words, so he captured Kurt's lips in a passionate kiss. After a few moments though, Blaine pulled away concerned since Kurt had fallen unresponsive. He noted the distracted look on Kurt's face and tensed. "What's wrong? What are you thinking about?"

Kurt shook himself from his daze and tried to brush it off. "Nothing. More kissing, please."

"_Kurt."_

"You're going to judge me," Kurt whined.

"You don't know that," insisted Blaine. "I won't, I promise."

Kurt heaved a sigh. "Ugh, I know it happened like a hundred years ago and you're going to think I'm irrational and jealous but, I can't help thinking about Jeremiah."

"Oh?"

"And that…well, we both kind of fit a certain type and in comparison—"

"I'm going to stop you right there," Blaine cut him off. "Jeremiah was…well, he wasn't nothing but he was arrogant, manipulative, and vapid…while you're just not. You're the polar opposite of those things. And yeah, maybe I like a certain look on a guy, but he's going nothing on you, Kurt. And you're right, it was a hundred years ago, I was confused, and I never saw him again."

Kurt studied the man before him. "How do you always know exactly what to say?"

Blaine erupted into a fit of modest laughter, "_Me_? Please, Kurt, were you listening to me for the past hour? I'm like the least articulate person on the planet."

Kurt dismissed his comment with a roll of his eyes as he set his wine glass down. He leaned in to kiss just below Blaine's ear and whispered, "You were pretty articulate today on Skype."

Blaine groaned as his eyes rolled back into his head at Kurt's words. "How do _you_ always know exactly how to turn me on?"

"Well, I—" Kurt's reply was stifled by the sudden yawn that escaped his mouth.

Blaine couldn't help but smile endearingly at his boyfriend. "It seems like we stayed up past someone's bedtime."

Kurt smacked Blaine's arm playfully, aware that it must have felt like the brush of a feather on his impenetrable skin intead of the sting he was aiming for. "Shut up."

"Come on, I'll take you home, we'll be sneaky so your dad won't find out that you stayed out past your curfew," Blaine teased as he stood up.

"You're such a little—" Kurt lunged at Blaine, but found himself grabbing at air by the time he reached the spot where Blaine had been standing. A fraction of a second later, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He whirled around and was met with the sight of a smirking Blaine. Kurt struggled to put on his best bitch face and suppress the smile and rush of chills that traveled down his back that usually occurred whenever Blaine used his powers. "Very cute. Just use your—"another yawn ruined his retort.

"What was that? I didn't quite catch what you were saying," Blaine taunted, sweeping Kurt into his arms and beginning to lift off.

Another tingle slithered down Kurt's spine at the sight of Blaine flying with curly hair and in sweats. He wasn't sure why he found it so arousing, perhaps it was because Blaine using his powers while in his civilian appearance reminded Kurt that this was real. Blaine really had feelings for Kurt, he really was Superman, and they were really in a relationship together. The ride back to Kurt's place was quicker than it had been yesterday, Kurt assumed they had flown faster since Blaine probably didn't want to be caught airborne in Ohio State athletic wear.

"Do you want me to tuck you in?" Blaine teased as he set Kurt down on his balcony.

"Do you want me to punch you?"

"Hey now, no need to get hostile there, Hummel," Blaine raised his hands in mock-surrender.

"Just kiss me goodnight before I say something mean about your eyebrows."

**A/N: Thank you for making it through all that. Next chapter we'll check in with Karofsky (something tells me he's up to no good) and then it's back to super-Klaine sex. You all know how to make it happen (coughcoughREVIEWcoughcough)**

**Hearts and Stars,**

**youngandobsessed**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Let me start off by saying that guys are the sweetest! Each and every one of your reviews puts a smile on my face! Y'all are a witty bunch too! Okay, so this chapter is short and sweet, and back by popular demand is everyone's favorite bitch…Santana!**

Chapter 14

"Good morning, Miss Lopez," One of the many busy receptionists at LuthorCorp Headquarters greeted Santana as she strode into the expansive marble lobby. "Is there anything I can assist you with today?"

"Tell Mr. Luthor I'm heading up to his office now," Santana told the woman in the superior, disinterested tone that she had perfected over the years.

"Right away, Miss Lopez," the woman assured her in a professional, borderline robotic, voice with an equally creepy smile.

"Thanks," Santana said strutting away over to the executive elevator, pretending not to relish the whispers she caused as she paraded past various LuthorCorp employees.

"_Yeah, that's her." _

"_Wow, she's even prettier in person."_

"_Figures Luthor would get a piece of ass as fine as that_."

"_I wonder what she's doing here?"_

Santana was pondering the same thing actually. The cryptic voicemail Dave's PA left her this morning had left her unsure why Dave demanded her presence, especially at his place of work. Nevertheless, she stepped into the executive elevator, received by the operator in the same machinelike professional tone as the woman at reception, and felt her ears pop on the swift hundred story ride up to the top. Dave's Personal Assistant, a matronly woman by the name of Susan, was there to welcome her when the elevator doors slid open.

"Perfect timing," Susan told her as she lead her down the executive hallway to Dave's office. "He just got out of a meeting."

"Peachy," Santana replied sarcastically. She was missing her mani-pedi appointment for this.

Dave was waiting for her when she entered his office. "Santana, there you are." He pulled her into a kiss that was wildly improper for the workplace, cupping her butt while he was at it, and Susan quickly shuffled away to give the couple their privacy.

"Ew. Did you have to stick your tongue down my throat?" Santana grumbled, wiping her lips on the back of her hand once Dave released her.

"Oh just shut up and take it, Santana," Dave fired back. "I'm at work and need to keep up appearances."

Santana rolled her eyes. Dave was meticulous, no _obsessive_ about giving people absolutely no reason to speculate that he wasn't just as butch as he looked. He even went as far as hiring prostitutes under an alias, then slipping them roofies after he fucked them, and dropping them off at random locations so they wouldn't have any recollection that they'd slept with him.

"Speaking of appearances," Dave added. "I think we should get married."

"Dave! Language!" Santana gasped mockingly.

"I'm serious, San. We've been 'dating' since high school. People are getting suspicious as to why we haven't tied the knot yet."

"But, Dave, marriage is so _permanent_—"

"Well the roof over your head and your expense accounts aren't," Dave snapped. "So I'd stop by Tiffany's or Harry Winston's on your way home if I were you."

"Oh, it's every little girl's dream to be proposed to through blackmail!" Santana hissed. Dave gave her a harrowing gaze and she relented. "Fine, I'll marry you, Dave. But I'm warning you now, it's going to cost you. Our wedding is going to make the Royal Wedding look like some backcountry nuptials. And if my dress doesn't single-handedly crash Twitter like Pippa Middleton's did, I'm divorcing you."

"Whatever, Santana, I'm just glad you see things my way," Dave shook his head. "Now, onto the reason why I called you here."

"Oh, you didn't want me to swing by just so you could coerce me into matrimony?" She quipped.

"_Watch it_, San," he cautioned her, trying not to let his temper get the best of him. "I wanted to talk to you about Superman."

Santana's face fell into a scowl. "Him again?" Her voice was full of (rarely) legitimate concern and enervation. "When are you just going to drop this vendetta or whatever you have against him?"

"Not anytime soon I can assure you, since I've figured out how to beat him," Dave informed her as-a-matter-of-factly.

"How do you plan on doing that? Need I remind you that he's _invincible_?" challenged Santana.

"Oh his skin maybe invincible, but that's not where I'm aiming at," Dave told her melodramatically.

She rolled her eyes. "_Dios mio_, Dave, out with it before I have to get you a white cat and start calling you Dr. Evil."

"Fine. I'm going to attack his heart," he told her with far less drama than he would have liked.

Santana raised an eyebrow. "Physically or figuratively?"

"Figuratively. You remember I said all we need to pull off the California deal was a good distraction? Well, what better distraction than threatening his girlfriend's life?"

"Hate to rain on your parade here, but how do you even know he has a girlfriend? And even if he does, how are we going to find her, much less kidnap her and hold her for ransom, or whatever you plan on doing?"

"Easy, we find out who he actually is. And in the event he isn't attached, which I find _highly_ unlikely, we go after his family instead," Dave explained, quite pleased with himself.

"Go after his family? Didn't you read that article in The Planet? His family was blown into smithereens long, long ago in a galaxy far, far away." Santana pointed out.

Dave sighed in exasperation. "Well, if you had read the _entire_ article and not just fingered yourself to the picture of him they printed along with it, you would have noticed that he also mentioned his age: thirty. And I think it's safe to assume that he came to earth in some sort of vehicle or spaceship, and that the UFO landed in somewhere in the U.S., due to that God-awful line about 'truth, justice, and the American way'. I think it's also safe to say that someone probably adopted him and that he wasn't raised by wolves or apes anything, so we start looking for reports of mysterious meteors impacts that happened around thirty years ago and from there, we check that area's adoption records and start narrowing down possible candidates from there."

_Crap, that's actually a really good plan, _Santana swore to herself. "And by 'we', you mean…"

"A few hand-selected guys from LuthorCorp's R&D department," he finished for her. "But you're not off the hook. I know it's going to interfere with your exhausting schedule of doing absolutely nothing all day, but you're going to be my eyes on the street. When we find out Superman's identity, we're going to need to follow him and find out who he's banging."

"Why me?" Santana questioned. "Why not hire the top private detective in Metropolis?"

"Because you're most conniving, slyest person I know…and I trust you," Dave confessed. For a moment, _just _a moment, there was a glimmer of the vulnerable, desperate, terrified boy Santana remembered from high school. She softened infinitesimally.

"Fine," she caved, with a roll of her eyes. "I'll play your little spy game with you."

"Thank you. Now get out of here, some of us have actual work to do." Just like that, Dave had slipped back behind his CEO-façade. "I'll have Susan call all the top jewelry stores and tell them to expect you."

"Sure thing, Boss," Santana sighed. Dave leaned in to kiss her and smacked her ass before she left the office, escorted back to the executive elevator by Susan.

As Santana exited the skyscraper, she felt weight sitting on her chest that she hadn't experienced in years. Guilt, helplessness, and despondency were emotions that she'd learned to drown out expertly with alcohol, sex, and luxury goods. Did she really feel that bad for Superman? _Well, he did save my life_._ Don't I owe him the same? _Santana ruminated. _No,_ _Dave gave you mission. You're going soft, Lopez. _Santana cringed at the realization that her surname would be changing soon. Well, she could give herself a mission of her own: find the most expensive engagement ring in Metropolis and send her deranged, closet-case _fiancé_ the bill.

**A/N: Okay, so it's not ten thousand words like last time, but I promise Chapter 15 is going to be really long and really smutty! Therefore, I might not be able to update later in the week, but I'll try my hardest! So now is the time I beg for reviews (they really are all so very wonderful and quite inspirational to the writing process) and say adios! **

**Hearts and Stars,**

**Youngandobsessed**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: As promised, long and smutty…**

Chapter 15

Bliss. That was the only word to describe what the past three and a half weeks had been like for Kurt. Pure, unadulterated bliss. He and Blaine had become inseparable during that time, exchanging knowing, coy glances across their desks and flirty Skype messages (although they didn't allow them to get as heated as that first time) at work, and then spending the evenings at one of their apartments, curled up on the couch with dinner and the news on (for Blaine's sake) or tangled in the sheets. No matter where he had spent the previous night, Kurt always woke up in own bed, alone but sated…for the most part. Kurt never thought in a million years that he would be the one craving more in the physical aspect of a relationship, but nevertheless, he was getting antsy. Kurt was dying to know what it would feel like to have Blaine in his—

"Whoa, Kurt, those are a lot of cucumbers."

Tina's observation snapped him out of his erotic daydreaming. They were shopping at The Farmer's Market after work on Tuesday and Tina was studying Kurt's basket with curiosity.

"Oh! I'm trying this new recipe that features cucumbers as the anchor of the dish so I'm stocking up just in case there any faux-pas in the kitchen," Kurt explained breezily.

"Bullshit. You're totally practicing giving a blow job, aren't you?" Kurt didn't reply verbally, but the fact that he was turning as red as the tomatoes in front of them was enough of a confirmation for Tina. "Oh my God! You even got pineapples! Do you really think they make your—"

"_TINA_!"

"—taste better?" she finished, undeterred by Kurt's scarlet face and rather loud objection to her questioning.

"It's just, it's been a while," Kurt mumbled, scurrying away to the next stand.

Tina followed him. "Jeez, what happened to Kurt, the baby penguin?"

"He got a really hot boyfriend," he informed her, a bit haughty.

She plucked one of Kurt's several cucumbers from his basket and surveyed it appreciatively. "A well-endowed one, too."

Kurt's blush returned with a renewed fervor. He had been praying that Tina wouldn't pick up on his blow job-practice kit. But buying a dildo (_ugh, even the word itself sounded dirty and awkward_) would have been too mortifying an experience, and besides, this way he could dispose of the evidence after he was done. Kurt wouldn't have bought anything in the first place, but like Tina had seen, Blaine was considerably larger than any of his past trysts, and he couldn't think of anything less sexy than choking in the middle of a blow job. Not that he was even sure that Blaine would allow Kurt to go down on him, but Saturday night Blaine was taking Kurt out for their one-month anniversary, and Kurt wanted to be at least prepared if Blaine felt ready to move to the next level of intimacy.

"Speaking of which, when are we going to meet that hung boy-toy of yours?" Tina inquired as she paid for the fruit she'd collected.

"Damn, Tina are you trying to get me to explode from embarrassment?" demanded Kurt.

"Maybe a little," she confessed with a guilty grin. "But seriously, we really do want to meet him, you guys been going out for like a month now."

Kurt searched for the right words to let Tina down easy. "I, um, I still don't think he's ready yet."

Tina fought to keep her expression neutral. She didn't want to drive Kurt away like Mercedes had with her disapproval, but there was definitely something up with this new boyfriend of Kurt's. All anyone knew about this guy was his name, Blake, he was 'in the closet', but somehow managed to make Kurt very happy. Which would have been enough, except Kurt, Tina, and Mercedes usually told each other _everything _and Kurt always tensed up when they mentioned Blake…if that was his real name. Still, Tina felt obligated to be just as supportive of a friend as Kurt had been to her for so many years. So rather than interrogating him like she really wanted to, Tina replied with an impartial, "Oh, okay."

"Thanks for understanding, Tina," Kurt told her with a small, sincere smile.

"Of course, Kurt. So what are you two doing for the all-important one-month anniversary?"

0-0-0

"_Jean Georges_?" Kurt gasped as Blaine led him inside the swanky restaurant. "Seriously, Blaine? Just because I like French food doesn't mean you have to take me to five-star restaurants every time we go out!"

"Yes, I do," Blaine insisted before he paused to give the wafer-thin hostess his name for the reservation. "I never get to take you out, I'm always 'working late'."

"You are ridiculous," Kurt muttered under his breath.

"We don't have to eat here, you know," Blaine told him quietly as they followed the hostess to their table. "I think there's a McDonald's down the street if you'd feel more comfortable—"

"Oh shut up," Kurt playfully smacked Blaine's arm but then pecked him on the lips. "This is wonderful…unnecessary, but wonderful."

"I let you have your cooking," Blaine pointed out as they took their seats, holding out Kurt's chair for him before sitting down in his own. "Let me have my fancy French restaurants."

Their waiter arrived at the table promptly and Blaine noticed Kurt staring at him once their server had returned with their wine. "Penny for your thoughts?"

Kurt's gaze met Blaine's and he smiled sheepishly. "Oh, I was just remembering…you really can't get drunk?"

"Nope," Blaine assured him with a smirk. "Not for a lack of trying either. I impressed many an Ohio State fraternity brother with my ability to drink them under a table."

Kurt snorted. "Glad to hear you've always used your powers for good."

Blaine joined in on the laughter and the couple lapsed into their now-regular easy conversation. It never failed to amaze Kurt that they always had something to talk about, even after all the time they'd spent together in the last month. He thought back to their first date, back when he was so painfully oblivious, and couldn't believe how far he'd come from that mildly awkward night back in May. Now he was holding his boyfriend's hand on the table, playing footsie with him under it, and gazing lov—fondly into his eyes, unable to comprehend that he had somehow managed to score both men of his dreams.

They were forced to release their grip on each other's hands once the food arrived (Blaine had ordered all by himself, Kurt was very proud), yet their game of footsie continued as they ate. Kurt was feeling a little bit wicked and decided to let Blaine know just how much he was enjoying his meal as he stroked the side of his foot up and down Blaine's calf.

Blaine glared at him. "What do you think you're doing?"

Kurt smiled at him as innocently as he could. "What do you mean? I'm just _loving_ my duck." He took another bite and let eyes roll back into his head while he moaned approvingly. "_Mmmmmm_, Blaine, that's _so_ good."

"Never pegged you as an exhibitionist, Kurt," Blaine said through gritted teeth.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Kurt shrugged as began sucking on the end of his fork.

Blaine groaned at the sight. "You're such a little tease, talk about not using one's powers for good."

Kurt relented and dropped his foot back to the floor. "Fine, but we're continuing this later."

"You bet we are," Blaine growled, his eyes narrowing as he stared at Kurt, "I'm going to get you back for that little stunt."

"I look forward to it."

0-0-0

After dinner, Kurt and Blaine found themselves outside one of the more…_tamer_…gay clubs in Metropolis. "You're okay with this?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Sure. I mean this place isn't half as tacky as that karaoke bar you took me last time."

"Oh please, you _loved_ the karaoke bar," Blaine said. Kurt tried to protest, but he cut him off, "Don't try to deny it."

Twenty minutes later, they were on the dance floor, ignorant to everyone but each other. Well, maybe not _everyone. _For once Kurt was thankful that Blaine was wearing those God-awful glasses that disguised just how hot his boyfriend actually was. That didn't stop some of the club's patrons from checking him out though, and Kurt found himself having to basically botox the "back off, bitch, he's _mine_" look onto his face. Blaine seemed to be just as possessive as Kurt, maybe even more so. He had legitimately feared that Blaine was going to rip a guy's head off after he asked to buy Kurt a drink. That was how they had ended up on the dance floor actually, Blaine had more or less dragged Kurt behind him and didn't hesitate beginning to grind himself into Kurt's ass. Blaine's hands were grasping his hips in a domineering fashion, guiding Kurt's movements to match his.

He knew he should at least be a little ticked at Blaine, because really, they weren't cavemen and jealously wasn't a becoming emotion on anyone, but it felt really, _really_ good having Blaine's crotch rubbing against his ass and…_oh_, apparently Blaine was liking it too, if his hardening cock was any indication.

He wasn't sure how much longer they continued like that, Kurt steadily rocking his ass back into Blaine's cock, which had reached full hardness and was straining against his slacks relentlessly. The friction almost became too much when Blaine began to press hot, wet kisses into the back of his neck. Kurt was about to slide Blaine's hand from his hip to between his legs when suddenly the solid warmth of Blaine was gone and all that was left of him was a murmur of his voice under the blaring music throughout the club.

"WHAT?" Kurt shouted turning to face Blaine.

"I SAID, WE SHOULD COOL OFF," Blaine repeated himself at a higher volume. "HOW ABOUT WE GO GET A DRINK?"

Kurt agreed reluctantly, allowing Blaine to take his hand and escort him through the human labyrinth of dancers back to over to the bar. He really was doing his best not to pout, but it just _wasn't fair._ They had been so close, the head of Blaine's dick had been right up against the cleft of his ass, separated only by a few measly layers of clothing, and if Kurt grinded back particularly hard, then it _almost_ felt like sex. But he had to respect Blaine. Kurt knew that Blaine would do anything for him, hell, he'd saved his life, and Kurt _had_ to be patient…even if he did feel like he would combust from sexual frustration.

"A cosmopolitan, please," Kurt told the bartender after Blaine ordered a beer, fishing a twenty out of his wallet and slipping it to the bartender before Blaine could notice. "You paid for dinner," he pointed out when Blaine tried to complain.

"Thank you for putting up with me," Blaine told him, clasping Kurt's hand and tracing little circles into the back of it with his thumb. He smiled at the gesture, Kurt had noted this was something his boyfriend did when he was trying to calm him down, but Kurt suspected that Blaine did it just as much for his own benefit as he did for Kurt's.

"No problem," Kurt assured him. "You're well worth the wait, remember?"

Blaine smiled in return, but it didn't seem to quite reach his eyes. The bartender served them their drinks, and the couple nursed them leisurely, content to just hold hands and people watch. Every once in a while, one of them would make a comment about that man's hair or how awful one guy's dance moves were, and the other would chuckle and agree, or make a half-hearted attempt at defending the stranger.

Everything changed however when a certain song began to play. Upon hearing the driving beat of the melody, Kurt squealed and sprang up, tugging on Blaine's hand to take him back to the dance floor.

"BLAINE! LISTEN! IT'S _OUR SONG_! WE _HAVE _TO DANCE TO OUR SONG! PLEASE!"

Blaine regarded his boyfriend with confusion for a moment. _Our song? _He listened for a moment. _Wait, this isn't Animal …_

As soon as Katy Perry's voice came pouring out of the club's gigantic speakers it clicked.

_You're so hypnotizing _

_Could you be the devil, could you be an angel?_

Blaine chuckled at a bouncing Kurt. "Really? E.T.?"

_Your touch magnetizing _

_Feels like I am floating, leaves my body glowing_

"_Yes_," Kurt whined. "Come on! She practically wrote this song about you and _we're missing it_!"

"Okay, okay," he yielded and permitted Kurt to pull him back on the dance floor.

_They say be afraid_

_You're not like the others, futuristic lover_

_Different DNA_

_They don't understand you_

Once Kurt had found a spot he deemed acceptable, he wasted no time smashing his body back into Blaine's, resuming his grinding with more intensity than before. Blaine was helpless against that perfect ass that Kurt knew exactly how to move to drive him insane. He was hard again in an instant. _So much for cooling off. _

_You're from a whole other world_

_A different dimension_

_You've opened my eyes _

_And I'm ready to go lead me into the light _

Kurt moaned at the return of the firm pressure of Blaine's erection prodding between his cheeks again. He responded by bracing his hands on Blaine's, which were clutching at Kurt's hips again, then dropping down so his back slid down Blaine's chest and back up again. Kurt could hear Blaine's groan over the booming volume of the song.

_Kiss me, k-k-kiss me_

_Infect me with your love and fill me with your poison _

_Take me, t-t-take me_

_Wanna be a victim, ready for abduction _

_Boy, you're an alien, your touch so foreign_

_It's supernatural, extraterrestrial _

Their dancing, _er, dry-humping_, Kurt thought to himself, had grown more erratic as the song progressed. Instead of the steady roll and undulating of their hips together, Blaine had moved to brazenly thrusting his pelvis into Kurt's backside. _Yes! _Kurt inwardly rejoiced. _This is even _more_ like sex!_

_You're so supersonic_

_Wanna feel your powers, stun me with your laser_

_Your kiss is cosmic _

_Every move is magic _

Kurt lifted his arms to loop around Blaine's neck, partly to steady himself, partly to attempt to bring them impossibly closer. He tilted his head back to rest on Blaine's shoulder, his eyes closed and mouth parted in ecstasy.

_You're from a whole other world_

_A different dimension_

_You've opened my eyes _

_And I'm ready to go lead me into the light _

Blaine heard Kurt singing the lyrics under his breath. The fact that it was a sound that only he could hear, and that the words were meant for him, intoxicated Blaine more than any amount of every alcoholic beverage could.

_Kiss me, k-k-kiss me_

_Infect me with your love and fill me with your poison _

_Take me, t-t-take me_

_Wanna be a victim, ready for abduction _

_Boy, you're an alien, your touch so foreign_

_It's supernatural, extraterrestrial _

Blaine spun Kurt around so they were finally face-to-face. They traded a stare that was full of lust, but there was something else between them, something deeper. Nevertheless, they continued to sway together, their bodies molded to each other's. Kurt continued to murmur the lyrics, though Blaine wasn't sure if he was aware he was still doing so.

_This is transcendental, on another level_

_Boy, you're my lucky star_

_I wanna walk on your wavelength_

_And be there when you vibrate_

Kurt may have been mouthing the words of the song unconsciously, but Blaine was almost positive that he wasn't aware what this meant to him, the fact that Kurt found Blaine's foreignness appealing rather than revolting. For years, he had been convinced that being an alien made him a freak, a pariah. He thought that if anyone had found out that he was from another planet, they would run for the hills and not look back, so he had always opted to end relationships prematurely instead of running the risk of letting his secret tear the romance apart. But Kurt had been different, he had accepted him almost immediately for who he was and that's why Blaine sang the next line of the song with Kurt, vowing to him that—

_For you I'll risk it all, all_

Kurt shuddered under the intensity of Blaine's stare, and took a hint from Katy's lyrics and crashed his lips to Blaine's.

_Kiss me, k-k-kiss me_

_Infect me with your love and fill me with your poison _

Blaine responded to the kiss eagerly, and it wasn't long before their tongues were engaged in a fiery, sloppy duel for dominance.

_Take me, t-t-take me_

_Wanna be a victim, ready for abduction _

_Boy, you're an alien, your touch so foreign_

_It's supernatural, extraterrestrial _

Their lips parted as the song faded and another tune filled the thick air of the club. Kurt realized that this was his golden opportunity, he had to make his move _now_, so he slithered his hands down the expanse of Blaine's back to cup his butt and gave it a squeeze.

"Oh, Blaine, I'm so hard for you right now," Kurt twitched his hips forward to rub his erection against Blaine's as proof. "Let me blow you, _please_, Blaine. I want to so badly. I _dream_ about it Blaine, I _dream_ about sucking your glorious cock," Kurt whispered into Blaine's ear, so low that he could barely hear himself, but still confident Blaine was picking up every bit of filth that was tumbling from his boyfriend's lips. Over the past month, Kurt had become considerably more skilled in the art of talking dirty. And maybe he was taking advantage of one of Blaine's kinky weaknesses, but it wasn't really taking advantage when he knew Blaine wanted it just as much as did, right? He knew that Blaine had his qualms regarding his self-control, but Kurt trusted Blaine completely, and maybe if Blaine saw that, he'd start trusting himself. _Yeah, _Kurt told himself, endeavoring to justify his less than noble motives, _you're just showing Blaine how much you 'trust' him. _"_Please_, Blaine, please can I suck you off? I can already imagine how you taste, how you'll feel on my tongue, down my throat…I don't want to beg, Blaine. I will though, anything for you, on you, to you…"

Blaine was surprised that he hadn't come just from Kurt's words after all the stimulation he'd received that evening. He silenced Kurt with another kiss, which turned out to be a bad idea, since Kurt began sucking on his tongue as soon as their mouths had made contact again. _God, Kurt really wants this doesn't he? And who am I to deny Kurt what he really wants…_

"Okay," gasped Blaine as he broke this kiss breathlessly. "We can…come on, let's go find somewhere we can be alone."

Kurt had to repress the urge to fist-pump in celebration like a Jersey Shore cast member as he followed Blaine over to the quieter, less crowded VIP area of the club.

"We need a booth," Blaine told the woman in charge of the VIP section.

"I'm sorry, we're currently full," she told them with a fake smile.

Blaine scanned the area with his x-ray vision. There were two pods that were unoccupied. "Well, can you check again? Something tells me—"

Kurt shimmied in front of Blaine, thrusting a hand full of cash into the woman's face. "Here. That's three hundred bucks. Got any openings now?"

She froze for a moment before taking the money. "Right this way."

_Smart move,_ Kurt thought, _or I would have had to strangle you with that stupid headset of yours. _

They were led past a hulkish bouncer to one of the empty rooms at the end of the row. Blaine and Kurt stumbled through the curtained entrance and into the small, circular space with a black leather couch that curved around the circumference of the room. Kurt had Blaine splayed on the couch within seconds, dropping to his knees moments later. His lips attached themselves to Blaine's neck as he began to pop open the buttons on Blaine's button down, kissing and laving at the newly exposed skin of his chest as continued to undress Blaine.

"God, _Kurt,_ you…you look so sexy right now…" Blaine panted as Kurt traced the planes of his abs with his tongue before moving to lick at the line of waistband. Blaine's eyes rolled back into his head and his hands flew out to grip either side of the couch to steady himself. "Oh, ohmygod, yes, Kurt, _please ngggh_…"

Kurt's nimble fingers unbuckled Blaine's belt and unzipped his fly deftly, watching with hungry eyes as Blaine's cock sprung out of his boxers once Kurt had eased them down. He eyed his prize ravenously and leaned in to lick the bubble of precum from the head…

"Wait, no!"

Kurt let out a noise of frustration and leaned back on his heels with an incredulous look to Blaine. "_Seriously_? What _is_ it, Blaine?"

"Condom," he choked out.

"No, I want to taste you," Kurt argued as Blaine fumbled with his wallet. "Not plastic."

"What if it was—" Blaine squinted at the label "strawberry flavored?"

Kurt sighed in annoyance and raised an eyebrow. "Why do we have to use one in the first place? _I'm_ clean and _you're_ clean, what's the problem?"

"It's just," Blaine searched for the right words. Sometimes he really hated being an extraterrestrial. "if you, uh, swallowed…um, bad things could happen."

"I highly doubt that your semen is going to make me grow another head, Blaine,' Kurt deadpanned, unimpressed with Blaine's excuse.

"It might!" Blaine objected before he could stop himself. "Kurt, back in Westerville, some people developed mutations from exposure to the meteor rock, so I can only assume that my bodily fluids may have the same effect on you. I'm sorry, this is more trouble than it's worth and—"

Kurt snatched the condom packet and ripped it open. "Shut up," he told Blaine as he unrolled the condom onto his erection, which had wilted somewhat in the past minute or so. Kurt wasn't going to have any of that. He wrapped his lips around the head and sucked, feeling Blaine's cock immediately respond to his touch and stiffen again to full attention. "That's more like it," he pulled off and smiled at Blaine's renewed hard on before glancing up at his lover's eyes. "Now, no more acting like an insecure teenage girl. You deserve this Blaine, you're an amazing boyfriend, not to mention you save the world on a daily basis. Plus, I'm not putting all my practice on those cucumbers to waste."

"What on Earth are you tal—" Blaine began to ask, but Kurt had sunk his mouth back down on his dick, so the remainder of his question came out as "_ohhhhhhhhh_."

Kurt chuckled around him, the vibrations causing Blaine to grunt and dig his fingers into the couch so deeply that he creating ten little finger-sized holes through the fabric. The holes became full-on tears when Kurt relaxed his throat and took all of Blaine into his mouth.

"_Ohhhh_, baby, that feels so…_nnngh, Kurt_…so good, baby…so_ so_ good…" Blaine moaned as his boyfriend continued to deep-throat him, his tongue dragging up the underside of his cock as he did so.

Kurt ran his fingertips up and down Blaine's thighs as he continued to work his mouth over Blaine's dick. When he warned him he was getting close, which had involved a lot of moaning and unintelligible syllables, Kurt allowed his teeth to scrape over Blaine's member as he bobbed his head, and with a series grunts and the sound of ripping fabric, he exploded into the condom, Kurt sucking him through his climax.

"Oops."

Kurt looked up at Blaine, glasses crooked on his nose, holding two fistfuls of the couch's stuffing in his hands. He couldn't help but giggle at the sight.

"Hey! Don't laugh! This is all your fault!" Blaine exclaimed, although he was chuckling as well. "You and your teeth, and your nonexistent gag reflex, and your evil tongue…"

Kurt laughed and climbed back into Blaine's lap, drawing him in for a sweet kiss. "So I can conclude from the state of the couch that you enjoyed it?"

"Like you have to ask," he muttered. "Thank you for doing that."

"Thank you for letting me," Kurt told him sincerely, stealing another quick peck on the lips before noting the grimace on Blaine's face. "What's wrong?"

"I, uh, just need to throw out the condom," he said. "It's kind of getting uncomfortable."

"Oh! Of course!" Kurt cried, shifting out of Blaine's lap onto an undamaged part of the couch. "Sorry."

"Thanks, babe," Blaine said, pulling up his pants. "Be back in a sec."

Blaine disappeared and then re-appeared in literally a second, leaning in the doorway with his shirt rebuttoned and a sly smile playing on his lips. He advanced over to Kurt in an almost predatory manner. "How about we go back to your place, so I can—" he palmed Kurt's arousal and whispered the rest of his proposal into his ear "return the favor?"

Kurt simply nodded energetically in reply and they were out of the club and back on the street in no time.

Blaine moaned as Kurt clung to him as he tried to flag down a cab, the nibbling on his ear and kneading of his butt proving to be very distracting. "Has anyone ever told you you're a sex fiend?"

Kurt snorted. "Psh, no." He licked a stripe from the base of Blaine's neck up to the bottom of his ear. "You made me one."

Blaine chuckled darkly. "I wonder what else I can make you into."

Neither man was able to resist a kiss in that moment, their tongues sliding against each other's languidly, until jeers and insults interrupted the liplock.

"HEY! _FAGGOTS_! GET A ROOM!"

"YEAH, NO ONE WANTS TO SEE YOU TWO SUCKING COCK IN THE MIDDLE OF THE STREET!"

Blaine glared at the pair of men so fiercely that Kurt dreaded he was going to set them on fire. He squeezed Blaine's hand and told him softly, "Come on, let's go. Those two jerks aren't worth it."

The other men were laughing now, they sounded like a couple of hyenas. Blaine had yet to move.

"LOOK, DUDE! ONE OF THEM LOOKS LIKE A GIRL! IT'S NOT AS BAD IF ONE LOOKS LIKE A GIRL, RIGHT?" The man's friend was too delirious with laughter to respond. "GET IT, HOBBIT!"

Blaine lunged at the men, but Kurt was able to hold him back. "Blaine, come on, let's go. They just want a reaction. You're stronger than that, Blaine, _don't give them a reaction_."

The superhero remained frozen for another long, tense moment, before conceding and beginning to walk away with Kurt.

"HEY! WHERE ARE YOU GOING?"

_Great, now they're following us. _Kurt kept an iron grip on his boyfriend's hand as they hurried down the street.

"OH I SEE HOW IT IS! JUST RUN AWAY LIKE THE LITTLE FAGGOT YOU ARE. HAVE FUN ASS-FUCKING THAT LITTLE TWINK OF YOURS!"

Blaine moved so fast that Kurt barely registered what happened until he heard a smack and a pained cry several feet away from him. He shrieked in horror when he saw that Blaine had slammed the man into the side of a building and was wailing on him. And if the sickening cracks and pops his punches were producing was any indicator, Blaine was unleashing his full strength on the man.

Kurt was paralyzed with terror as he watched the man's friend tried to intervene, but Blaine anticipated his attack and elbowed him forcefully in the face. He staggered back, moaning in pain, clutching his nose that was now spurting blood. The gory sight snapped Kurt back into real-time and he sprinted over to where Blaine was battering the other man.

"_BLAINE!" _he screamed. "_STOP IT!"_

But Blaine wasn't listening, he was too absorbed with beating the man to what seemed an inch of his life.

"If—"punch"—you—"punch"—_ever_—"punch"—insult—"punch"—my boyfriend—"punch"—again—"punch"—I—"punch"—will—"punch"—_destroy_—"punch"—you," Blaine snarled. All the man could do was sob brokenly as tears and blood rained down his face along with the rest of his body.

"BLAINE! STOP IT! STOP IT RIGHT NOW!" Kurt continued to shout at him, tears of his own running down cheeks from fright. "STOP IT, BLAINE, YOU'RE SCARING ME! YOU'RE REALLY HURTING HIM! YOU'RE GOING TO _KILL HIM_ IF YOU KEEP DOING THIS! DO YOUR HEAR ME? HE'S UNCONSCIOUS, BLAINE! _STOP!"_

In a desperate last ditch effort, Kurt threw himself at Blaine's side to try to tackle him out of the way. He knew physically it was hopeless, like a leaf hitting a freight train, but Kurt prayed that cognitively the action would cause Blaine to stop. Kurt ran into Blaine's upper arm and was thrown back onto the asphalt as Blaine lifted his arm to take another swing at the man. He let out a cry of pain as his rear end collided with the pavement and only then did Blaine drop the man's limp body and turn around to address Kurt.

Kurt stared at him with large, horrified eyes that were shining with tears. He was looking at Blaine like…like he was…it agonized Blaine to think it…like he was a _monster_. A moment passed that felt more like an eternity before Kurt scrambled back up to his feet and began to run away.

Blaine stayed frozen for a few more seconds, no longer blinded by rage to comprehend what he'd done. His gut twisted with humiliation and guilt as the gravity of his actions settled upon him. He looked up to see that Kurt had disappeared but he could faintly hear him calling for a taxi a few blocks over. Blaine ran at super-speed so he appeared behind him in a split second.

"Kurt, I'm so sorry," he began, reaching out his hand to lay it on Kurt's shoulder. "I—"

Kurt yelped in surprise at the sudden voice and touch and turned around to face Blaine. "GET AWAY FROM ME!"

"Please, I—"

"I CAN'T FUCKING BELIEVE YOU! SOME IDIOT MAKE A COUPLE HOMOPHOBIC SLURS SO YOU FUCKING GO TO TOWN ON HIM? WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU, BLAINE?" Kurt's voice was broken and hoarse and his body shook with sobs as he rebuked Blaine.

"I-I was protecting you," he said pathetically.

"PROTECTING ME? OH, BULL-FUCKING-SHIT! YOU WERE NOT PROTECTING ME. IF THAT GUY HAD TRIED TO HIT ME AND YOU STOPPED HIM THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN PROTECTING ME. YOU WERE BEING A _BULLY_, BLAINE. _YOU, _OF ALL PEOPLE!"

Blaine struggled to think of something that wouldn't make Kurt any angrier. "Please, just give me a chance to explain."

"I DON'T WANT TO HEAR IT!" He snapped at Blaine before turning back to the street and resumed trying to flag down a cab. _Of course, this is just my luck, no god damn cabs are stopping. _"TAXI!"

"Kurt, baby—"

Kurt spun around to face Blaine again. "BLAINE, NOTHING YOU SAY IS GOING TO MAKE THIS OKAY! YOU'RE FREAKING SUP—" Kurt caught himself and inhaled deeply, calming down slightly . "You abused your powers, plain and simple. I saw a completely different Blaine tonight, and he really scared me. I can't be with someone I'm afraid of."

Blaine's stomach dropped at his words. Fortunately for Kurt, the streetlight turned to red, causing an on-duty taxi to pull up right beside him.

"Can…can I at least take you home?" Blaine pleaded with him as he climbed into the taxi.

"No." There was no room for argument in Kurt's tone. More tears were pooling in his eyes, however. "I think I'm actually safer away from you." Then he slammed the taxi door shut with an air of finality.

**A/N: So, I know everyone probably hates me for that last little tidbit there, but it kind of had to be done. Will Kurt and Blaine work it out? I don't know, y'all are just going to have to review and find out soon…**

**Hearts and Stars,**

**Youngandobsessed **


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: So here it is…the aftermath. I know some of you might have thought that Blaine's lashing out was kind of sudden and unexpected, but I did try to drop some hints (the end of Chapter 1, the part last chapter when Blaine almost ripped a guy's head off for trying to chat up Kurt), but in the end it's your opinion and I as your humble author must respect it!**

Chapter 16

After the weekend he'd had, it went without saying that Kurt was not excited to return to work on Monday. He had nearly thrown his phone off his balcony yesterday on account of how many apology phone calls and texts Kurt had been receiving from Blaine. Now today Kurt had to sit across from him for eight hours, and he was _not_ looking forward to it.

To be honest, Kurt still couldn't quite believe what had happened Saturday night. He had always regarded Blaine's powers with awe and fascination, but fear had never occurred to him, since Blaine had always been so careful and conscientious when he used his abilities. He cursed his naïveté and how blindly he had trusted Blaine. Thank McQueen Beyoncé knew what he was talking about, he'd had "Best Thing I Never Had" on repeat for nearly twenty-four hours straight. He braced himself as he entered the newsroom, doing his damnedest not to look at Blaine as he marched to his desk.

"Hi, Kurt."

Blaine's voice sounded so timid and gentle, so unlike the low and dangerous tone it had taken this weekend, and Kurt almost softened. _No, I can do this, _he told himself. He simply ignored Blaine and set his coffee down before unpacking his laptop.

"Kurt, I just wanted to say—"

He cut Blaine off. "Excuse me, but I have a lot of work today that I need to get done. So I can't talk to you."

Blaine wanted to scream. He wanted to rip off his glasses and yell at Kurt for being so obstinate and stubborn and that if he would _just listen for two seconds_, Blaine could tell him that how sorry he was and that he _loved_ him. But he knew he couldn't, yelling would probably scare Kurt even more, so he kept his true feelings hidden behind his meek façade and replied weakly, "I understand."

And that was that. The day progressed on in silence between the two men, the only time they spoke was when they were on the phone with a source. That was until Mercedes and Tina stopped by his desk that afternoon.

"Hey," Tina greeted him. "It's raining so we've decided to hang out here instead of going up to the roof today."

"Oh, okay, sure," Kurt muttered, not looking up from his laptop screen.

"Kurt, what's going on?" Mercedes questioned warily. "Why are you ignoring us?"

Kurt finally made eye contact with his two best friends. "I'm not ignoring you. How were your weekends?"

Mercedes was not convinced. "Spill."

Kurt sighed exasperatedly. "There's nothing to spill, Mercedes."

Tina spoke before Mercedes could fire back with a retort. "Are you sure, Kurt? You know you can tell us anything."

"No, I can't," he asserted, glaring at Mercedes. "_Some_ people are just going to say I told you so."

"So this _is_ about Blair!"

"Blake," Kurt corrected her cautiously, trying to fight the magnetic pull between his eyes and Blaine.

"Please, Mercedes won't judge you. We all mistakes, _right_?" Tina said, shooting a warning glance at her friend. "Like that time she had a misguided crush on you sophomore year of high school."

"Yeah," Mercedes agreed with a tight smile. "Or like everything you wore during your goth phase in high school _and_ college."

"Hey," Kurt interrupted the girls' staredown. "This is about me, remember?"

"Right," Tina said. "What happened between you and Blake?"

Kurt could feel Blaine's gaze out of the corner of his eye as he pretended to work. He shifted uncomfortably. "Do you think maybe we could take this somewhere else…like the girls' bathroom…"Kurt stopped himself. Blaine was probably going to eavesdrop on them anyway, so Kurt could at least try to make this as awkward for him to listen to as it was going to be to talk about. "…you know what? Never mind. So he took me out to dinner at Jean Georges—"

"Nice," Tina commented.

"—and then we went clubbing and everything was going well until we were headed back to my place."

Mercedes and Tina exchanged a knowing smirk but didn't say anything.

"So he was getting us a cab, and then two guys, probably drunk off their asses, started heckling us."

"Oh no." Mercedes knew where this was going.

"So, Blai—Blake got all tense and angry-looking, which really made him look quite constipated, but I kept telling him to just let it go, that they weren't worth it, _which they weren't_," Kurt stole a glimpse at a very rigid Blaine, "and he was beginning to leave with me but he began beating up the other guy instead."

"What's so bad about that?" Mercedes inquired. "I mean, yeah, that wasn't the most diplomatic way to settle things, but wasn't he just watching out for you?"

"Cedes, you don't understand," he told her. "This wasn't just one chivalrous blow to the jaw, he's a really strong guy and Blake beat this guy _to a pulp_. He kept throwing punches long after the guy had backed down, I was actually afraid he was going to _kill_ him. He didn't stop until he knocked me down after I tried to break it up."

"Oh my goodness!" Tina clapped a hand over her mouth and Kurt saw Blaine wince. "_Kurt!_"

"I know," he agreed, zeroing his gaze in on a now-squirming Blaine. "Isn't it just awful, stupid, and _abusive _?"

"Are you going to break up with him? I mean, if you haven't already," Tina asked.

For the first time all day, Kurt and Blaine made eye contact. Thankfully, neither woman picked up on the penetrating stare the two were sharing. Kurt looked away, swallowed the lump in his throat, and answered in a small voice, "I don't know."

"Aw, hell to the no," Mercedes joined in. "No one hurts my boy and gets away with it."

"Yeah, Kurt," Tina concurred. "If this guy is violent, he's obviously not healthy-boyfriend material."

Kurt didn't respond, choosing to be very distracted by an e-mail at the moment.

"This is how abusive relationships start out," Mercedes tried to reason with him. "Trust me, I've seen it with some of the women in my family. It all just gets a hell of a lot worse from here. Kurt, this guy isn't worth it. What if you two get in a fight and he hits you, like really hits you, not by accident?"

"I don't think he'd do that," Kurt mumbled.

"You don't know that," she contended. "I know you're really happy to be in relationship again, but it's not worth being Rihanna to someone's Chris Brown."

"Thanks girls," Kurt forced himself to smile. "I'll think about it."

"We should get back to our desks," Tina said after checking her watch. "The last thing I want to do is get on Sue's bad side today. I heard she lost the annual "Swingers" Dance Competition this past weekend."

"I heard she ordered the interns clean her entire penthouse with toothbrushes and then made them go to New Jersey _on foot_ to get her soup from a certain deli in the ghetto yesterday," Mercedes added.

"Sounds like typical Sue," remarked Kurt. He chanced another glimpse at Blaine's desk, only to observe that his chair was empty.

0-0-0

Kurt kicked his front door shut behind him and he entered his apartment after work. He set his attaché case down in its usual spot on the kitchen counter and plopped down on the couch, loosening his tie and clicking on the TV. It took him a solid minute to notice that Superman was standing on his balcony with a bouquet of calla lilies in his left hand.

Kurt was rolled his eyes and pushed himself off the couch, not bothering to turn off the TV, since he knew this wasn't going to take long.

"I'm not in any mortal peril at the moment, so your presence isn't really needed here, Superman," Kurt informed the hero before moving to slam the door shut.

Blaine stopped the door from closing. "Kurt, please, I'm begging you to listen to me."

"I'd rather start setting my scarves on fire."

"Will you at least take the flowers?" Blaine pleaded, holding out the bouquet.

Kurt snatched the calla lilies. "Can I set _them_ on fire?"

"If you want to, but it'd be petty and immature," Blaine replied as he tried to keep his temper in check.

"Look who's talking," Kurt shot back.

"Really, Kurt? _Really_?" Blaine's frustration got the best of him. "We can't have an adult conversation because you'd rather just insult me when I'm actually making an effort to try and fix this?"

"Well, I hate to break to you, Blaine, but I don't know if your _capable_ hands are going to be able to fix this one," Kurt confessed, "because now whenever I look at you, I can't help but see that…that brute from Saturday night."

Blaine slumped in anguish. "You know I'm incredibly sorry for what I did. I know abused my powers, took advantage of my abilities…I know it doesn't excuse my behavior, but the way he was talking to me, the names he was calling you…it just rehashed a lot of bad memories and I guess I snapped. I made sure the guy and his friend were okay after you left, you know. Took them to the hospital and everything, luckily they didn't press charges."

Kurt considered what Blaine said for a few moments before continuing. "Have you ever done something like that before?"

"A long time ago, yes," he admitted shamefully. "But I swear to you, I'll never do it again, I _promise_."

"I just…I don't know, Blaine," Kurt sighed. "You really scared me. And now I'm afraid that it could happen again if we ever fought—"

"You _know_ it's not like that!" Blaine interjected. "You said it yourself earlier today! I would _never_ hit you…I'd rather stab myself in my eye with a dagger made of Kry—meteor rock than hurt you!"

"But you _ALREADY DID_!" Kurt shouted at him. "Or were you too busy bashing that guy's face in to notice?"

"_IT WAS AN ACCIDENT_!" He roared. Kurt stared at him with the same wide-eyed and staggered stare like he did on Saturday night. "Shit, I'm sorry…"

"I think you should go," said Kurt, his voice a whisper.

"No, Kurt…" Blaine appeared to be on the verge of tears. "I can't make one mistake, can I? Do you know what it's like? I literally feel like I have the weight of the world on my shoulders all the time…I can't enjoy any time to myself because every time I see that someone got shot, or raped, or a bank got robbed, or some building got blown up, I feel like it's _my fault_ for not being there. I'm always putting everyone else before myself and I know it's the right thing to do but sometimes it just gets really exhausting you know? I'm just one person and I know I have all these gifts but I'm not perfect, and I'm pretty sure Jor-El is going to smite me or something for being in a relationship with you one of these days…but the only time I can turn it all off is when I'm with you, Kurt. I get that you're mad at me and I know you're not going to forgive me, but…I mean the only other time I really let a guy have it was when this asshole swindled my dad into a bad business deal and they were going to take the farm away…the only time I really snap is when someone threatens the people I love and that guy _was_ harassing you—"

"Wait," Kurt cut his catharsis short. "What was that?"

Blaine looked confused. "What was what?"

"You said…you said you loved me," he clarified, astonished. "I mean, you didn't say it in so many words, but indirectly, one could infer that—"

"Of course I love you," Blaine told him simply. "I loved you from the moment I saw you. Like the third time I tripped when I was walking over from Sue's office, I _actually_ tripped, I wasn't just pretending to because I was so stunned by the sight of you. And you can call my mother, I _never_ trip unless I'm faking it, or I'm around meteor rock or something."

"Really?" Kurt choked out.

"_Really_," Blaine promised him, the corners of his lips twitching upward into a small smile. "Well, I guess I didn't _really_ fall in love with you until I saw you sing Blackbird. That was the moment when I…never mind."

"Blaine Anderson, you tell me what you were going to say right now or I'll…I'll…_something_ is going to be set on fire," Kurt threatened, even though he was sure he wasn't coming off at very intimidating at the moment.

Blaine blushed. "I…I was going to say that when I saw you sing Blackbird that was…I just thought…oh, there you are. I've been looking for you forever."

Kurt was speechless.

"Aw, shit, you're freaked out, aren't you? Do you think you're going to faint again?" Blaine said, although it seemed he was talking more to himself than to Kurt. "Crap, Kurt, if it makes any difference, I didn't want to tell you like this…I was going to wait at least another couple months…you think I'm a creep don't you? We've only dating for a month and I go and drop the L-word. How do I always manage to fuck important stuff like this up—"

"How were you going to tell me?"

Blaine gaped at Kurt incredulously. "Wuh-what?"

"If you hadn't fucked everything up, how were you going to tell you that you loved me?" Kurt elucidated.

"Oh, um…well, I was going to make you dinner, no matter how much you argued with me about it…and then I wanted to take you flying again, because you seemed to enjoy that and…well, yeah, that's about it," Blaine finished feebly.

"No one's ever told me they loved me before," he said, his gaze fixed on his shoes.

"Well, they're idiots," Blaine replied. "But, at the same time, I'm glad that I'm the only one."

Kurt looked Blaine square in the eye. "Do you mean it?"

"Do you love Alexander McQueen couture?" He retorted, matching Kurt's stare.

"Friday. You're going to make me dinner and take me flying and any other romantic activities you can think of," Kurt informed him as-a-matter-of-factly. "But, I need my space until then. I'm not going to let you off the hook that easily."

Blaine's brow furrowed. "Does this mean..."

"I'm giving you another chance," Kurt explained. "Well, not just you. I don't think I can say the L-word back yet—"

"I don't expect you to," Blaine assured him.

"But I'm…getting there. And I don't want this to be over yet…I want to 'get there' with you, Blaine. But the whole Jekyll and Hyde thing…or whatever that was on Saturday, that can _never happen again_, do you understand?"

"Never," Blaine swore.

"I know I don't look very formidable, but I'm not a little helpless flower that always needs his big bad boyfriend's protection," Kurt continued. "I've lived in this city for eleven years, Blaine, I can take care of myself."

"I know, and I'm sorry I didn't respect that," Blaine said. "Can I kiss you?"

Kurt let out a quick laugh of relief and grinned. "You better."

**A/N: There, see? All better! (as if I was really going to let them break up like that) So for the next chapter I have three words: Make. Up. Sex. (and fluff). Reviews make Blaine and Kurt want to do naughty things to each other!**

**Hearts and Stars,**

**youngandobsessed**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: So this chapter took longer than I thought it would. Anyhoo, I'd like to dedicate it to latinaeveharrington who gave me the idea for Kurt and Blaine's date! **

Chapter 17

_Please don't set these on fire _read the note that Kurt found accompanying the grand floral arrangement waiting for him on his desk the following morning when he arrived at work. He couldn't help but blush and glance at Blaine, who was immersed in a phone call with a source, his fingers flying over the keyboard of his laptop as he conversed.

Kurt plopped down at his desk, pulled out his laptop, and opened Skype.

**KurtHummel: **Very subtle, Anderson.

Kurt was convinced that Blaine was too engrossed in his call to reply to his message until his screen flashed to denote Blaine's reply.

**BAnderson: **Too much?

**KurtHummel: **Maybe just a tad. But they're beautiful without a doubt.

Blaine continued to multitask, carrying on a conversation with the source and Kurt.

**BAnderson: **Just like you then.

**KurtHummel: **Be sappier, I dare you.

**BAnderson: **Your eyes are more brilliant than the most sparkling Caribbean sea

**BAnderson: **Your lips are softer than roses made of silk

**KurtHummel: **Stop, please stop, you're nauseating me.

**BAnderson: **You skin is more flawless than the marble of Michelangelo's David

**KurtHummel: **Cease and desist before I'm forced to commit a murder-suicide

**BAnderson: **Just following orders, boss

"Well, would you look at that, Hummel, either you've started cultivating small jungle on your desk or you've been on larcenous rampage, stealing garish centerpieces from a painfully tacky wedding reception last night."

"I think they're pretty too, Sue," Kurt muttered. "What is it?"

"I need to see your notes on Metropolis's Mysterious Explosions or whatever dreadful tentative title you've got going. My office. Ten minutes," she barked before regarding Blaine, who'd finished his phone call by now. "Oh, and Pubes-On-My-Head," Blaine looked at her slack-jawed and disbelievingly while Kurt bit back giggles. "Not an awful job on the lizard sex trade piece. Good to know I didn't just hire you because you can type faster than My Gal Friday."

Once Sue had disappeared into her office, Kurt saw a new message pop up almost immediately.

**BAnderson: **Shut up

Kurt laughed and rolled his eyes before typing back a reply.

**KurtHummel: **If it makes you feel any better, she called me Tickle Me Doe Face for my entire first year as a staff reporter.

0-0-0

"So if the botanical garden sitting on your desk is any indication, Blake is doing some serious groveling," Tina remarked as she rummaged through her purse for her pack of cigarettes.

"Oh, um, yeah," Kurt replied, distracting himself with his iPhone in order to not have to make eye contact with them.

"You haven't taken him back, have you?" inquired Mercedes.

"No," Kurt lied.

"Then help yourself, my friend," Tina chirped, holding out her Malboro Lights.

"Wait, what?" Kurt asked.

"Well, didn't you say you only quit smoking because of Blake? Well, now that's he's not in the picture anymore there's nothing to worry about, right?" Tina reasoned.

_Shit, _Kurt cursed internally as he scrambled to come up with an explanation on the spot. "Yeah, but…even though I haven't taken him back doesn't mean smoking is all of a sudden not a deadly activity. I mean, I think my skin has improved significantly since I quit so I think I'll just—"

"Cut the crap, Kurt," Mercedes interjected. _She always did know when I was lying._ "You and Chris Brown are back together again, aren't you?"

"First of all, stop calling him that," Kurt spat at her. "And second, so what if we are? You know _nothing_ about our relationship."

"That's just it!" Mercedes exclaimed. "We don't know anything about this guy! It took us a week just to get you to tell us his name! And you still don't tell us anything about him unless we interrogate you when in the past we couldn't get you to shut up when you had a crush!"

"That's because this isn't some stupid, adolescent infatuation!" Kurt countered. "And since when is privacy a crime?"

"It's not," Tina intervened. "We're just afraid you're keeping things from us because there's something wrong. You've been…pretty defensive lately."

"Well, nothing's wrong," Kurt snapped. "Blai-Blake and I made up last night. He knows what he did was wrong and is deliberately going to prevent it from happening again, because he's well aware if he does, I'm out of there quicker than a bat out of hell. It's not just like we hopped into bed for a round of make-up sex either," he shot a resentful glare at Mercedes, "we're taking it slow this time. I'm not going to see him again until Friday night and he's going to have to pull out all the stops before I can trust him again."

"I still think he's using you," Mercedes groused. "It doesn't add up! You don't want us to meet him, he's only taken you out twice—"

"That's only because of his—"

"—of his 'job', I know," she finished for him. "_And_ he's still technically in the closet? What the hell kind of relationship is that?"

For a moment, Kurt contemplated coming clean and just tell them he was dating Blaine. But that would lead to a whole new level of stickiness, since he'd just have to make up a whole new batch of lies explaining why he didn't tell him, and why Blaine "worked late" when being a staff reporter for The Planet paid so well, not to mention how Blaine, who to them was a nerdy weakling, could cream another guy in a fight. So, Kurt decided against the truth, choosing to let all of his pent-up aggression and bitterness he'd been harboring to burst.

"For the love of God, Mercedes would you just _fuck off_?" Mercedes and Tina gaped at him with expressions of shock and, especially on Mercedes's face, hurt. "I'm just so effing sick of this! You know why I kept my personal life to myself? It's because I can't tell you_ anything_ without you getting jealous! I don't even bother sharing what I'm working on anymore because I know you'll just act dejected and disheartened or whatever you want to call that woe-is-me act you put on, even though you have high-paying job with a great readership that you worked half as hard as I did for. So I think it's pretty safe to assume on my part that if I try to tell you anything about how amazing my boyfriend is, or how smoking hot he is, or how mind-blowing the sex is, you're just going to sulk about how Sam hasn't proposed yet! _Really_ Mercedes? We all know he's only stalling because he lost his job and is waiting to get a steady salary again so he can get you a ring with an actual diamond in it. I'm sick of all of your complaining and your judging, Mercedes. Speaking of judging, how _dare_ you judge my boyfriend for being in the closet? Like you even have any idea how terrifying and difficult that it is for someone? And I know what you're going to say—you're just looking out me. Fuck that. I'm sick of everyone being so damn concerned about me! I'm a _grown man_, for Chrissake, not that broken little bullied boy back in high school. I've grown a thick skin since then but you're all too stuck in the past to see it. So I'm done Mercedes."

Kurt began to storm away but stopped himself when he reached the door. "Oh and another thing. I'm breaking the 'bro code' here, but I don't really give a flying fuck anymore, so here it goes. The other reason Sam doesn't want to propose is because he thinks your smoking is disgusting and he isn't sure he can make a commitment to someone who's slowly killing themselves and will just stink up whatever home you two make together. Just a tip."

When Kurt returned to his desk, he could tell from the look on Blaine's face that he had been listening.

"Kurt," Blaine began.

"I don't want to talk about it," he snapped, "and stop eavesdropping on me and my friends."

0-0-0

The remainder of the week passed by in a flurry of tension and awkwardness between Kurt and his friends. He obviously wasn't attending their Smoking and Gossip Sessions on the roof, but Tina still managed to stop by his desk when she could (Kurt really hated forcing her into the middle of the feud), and whenever he and Mercedes interacted, the extent of their communication was an icy stare. Blaine, on the other hand, had been the perfect escape from all the drama. He had respected Kurt's wishes and refrained from bringing up the blow up, instead sending him goofy Skype messages all day long or consulting with him about the menu for Friday.

Therefore, Kurt was eternally grateful when Friday evening finally arrived. He still wasn't exactly sure where they stood, but Blaine loved him (he still got butterflies every time he thought about it) and since that was better than the state of his relationship with his two best friends, he'd take it.

"Hello, gorgeous," Blaine greeted Kurt, a bit out of breath as he answered the door.

"Hi," he replied, blushing slightly. "I brought wine."

"Fantastic," Blaine grinned and moved to lean in but stopped himself. "Can I kiss you?"

"Blaine, you don't have to ask," he chuckled.

"I just want to make sure," Blaine told him. "I'm not sure how forgiven I am."

"Well, you're forgiven enough to kiss me without asking permission," Kurt informed him, capturing Blaine's lips for a kiss. What was meant to be a sweet kiss hello quickly escalated into a needy round of frenching since the two men had gone without any physical contact for almost week. The sounds of childish voices and giggles caused Kurt to break their liplock though. "You're also forgiven enough to invite me in so we don't give the kids that live down the hall an eyeful."

"Hm, good idea," he murmured, taking Kurt's hand and leading him inside. Once they entered the apartment and the bottle of wine was put down, Blaine pulled Kurt in for another ardent kiss. "I don't know if you could tell, but I really missed you this week."

"I missed you too," Kurt admitted. _I'd love for us to show each other just how much we've missed each other, but I'm supposed to not be letting you off the hook. Curse you and that talented mouth of yours, Blaine. _"But thank you for giving me my space this week."

"Of course, you know I'd do anything for you" he told him sincerely, tracing circles in the back of Kurt's hand. "I _love_ you. I'm just so sorry."

Kurt cupped his face and pressed his lips to Blaine's gently as a sign of reassurance and reconciliation. "I know." He looked past Blaine's head and frowned. "Why isn't the table set? Did you just get in or something?"

"No," Blaine replied with an impish smirk. "We're not eating here."

"Blaine! I thought you said you were going to make me dinner! If you made reservations at another French restaurant I swear to all that is Prada—"

"Hey, baby, calm down. I only meant that we're having a picnic and I already brought the food over to where I'm taking you," Blaine explained.

"Oh," Kurt responded, feeling silly. "And where are you taking me?"

"There's this nice park across the river that has a great view of the skyline," Blaine said. "But I know you're not the most outdoorsy person, so if you do want to eat here then give me a minute to fetch the food."

"That's okay," Kurt assured him. "I'm alright with the park."

"Good," Blaine smiled. "Shall we, then?"

Blaine shifted into a blur for a moment, stripping his street clothes so he was left in his Superman costume. "We're not just going downtown, so I kind of need to wear this just in case a helicopter catches us or something. I take it you don't have any objections."

_Stupid, cocky, sexy bastard_. "Only that the color scheme is atrocious," Kurt intoned, attempting to keep himself from falling under the spell of Blaine's tightly wrapped body.

Blaine chuckled as he swept him into his arms. "Just as long as you don't have any complaints about the fit."

Kurt had to bite down _hard_ on his lip to prevent the subsequent moan from escaping his mouth. _You can't let him off the hook so easily…you're supposed to be taking this slow…he almost killed a man…my goodness, spandex was the best thing ever invented…_

They were cruising above Riverside Drive now, Kurt clung closer to Blaine instinctively at the realization that they were now airborne. Blaine laughed lowly in his throat and pecked Kurt on the cheek quickly before he refocused on flying again. They spent the rest of the twenty minute flight in comfortable silence as Kurt reveled in taking in the city below him, or gazing with disbelief still at the reflection of himself and Blaine as they sped across the Hudson River. They landed in a secluded section of a charming park in what Kurt assumed was Hoboken.

Kurt looked back at the city across from them. "Wow, you weren't kidding," he gasped at the magnificent view of all the glittering lights of the Metropolis skyline.

Blaine simply grinned in reply but then suddenly swore under his breath.

"What's wrong?" Kurt inquired.

"We forgot your wine," Blaine said in a disappointed tone.

"Don't worry about it. We'll drink it some other time," Kurt insisted, glancing at the horizon momentarily and then back at Blaine, who was now in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. "Oh, boo, you're wearing normal clothes again."

"Sorry, babe, but it's a necessary precaution in case someone sees us," Blaine apologized as he reached into a nearby bush, extracting a large reusable shopping bag.

Kurt helped him set up the blanket and remove all the various covered dishes.

"I hope you like Italian," Blaine remarked as he began to take off the tin foil covering the plates. "I didn't think I was ready to try French cuisine, and I know pasta is full of carbs and calories and all that…"

"Blaine, Italian is fine. Not fine, great," promised Kurt. _Besides, I can think of a way for us to burn off those calories after dinner…_

Blaine exhaled in relief. "Good. Now question, if I tried to feed you would you think it was romantic or patronizing?"

Kurt ended up letting Blaine feed him, but thought it was only fair if he could do the same to Blaine. They caught up with each other as they ate, laughing and chatting, Kurt silently wishing Blaine wasn't so damn forgivable.

"So," Blaine began as he poked at his tiramisu. "I know you said you didn't want to talk about it, but we really do have to discuss what happened between you and Mercedes."

Kurt gave him a look that translated to _are you really going to make me do this? _"What if I started moaning as I ate the way you like so much?"

"_Kurt_," he pressed. "I'm serious. You two are still giving each other the silent treatment. I hate seeing you and your best friend like this, especially when it's my fault."

"Okay, hold on cowboy, this is just as much as my fault as it is yours. You didn't force me to go out with you, and we both agreed to keep our relationship under wraps."

"Well, now things are different."

"That may be true, but I feel like we have to keep things the same," Kurt contested. "Blaine, there was a moment where I almost told them. But I realized that even I came clean, I'd just have to lie even more about why I lied in the first place, and then they'd probably get even angrier at me. Trust me, Mercedes and I will work things out eventually, and honestly, it kind of felt good to get that all off my chest."

"I understand, Kurt, but they're going to have to meet 'Blake' sometime." Blaine pointed out. "I mean, they're still not convinced I'm not violent, and they'll probably keep giving you a hard time until they can meet him themselves."

"What if we hired someone to pose as my boyfriend?" Kurt half-joked. "Like Tom Welling?"

"Yeah, he's straight and married, so keep dreaming, Hummel," Blaine retorted, nudging his boyfriend playfully.

"What about Hayden Christensen then? He never has any chemistry with the girls in his movies, so logically, we can assume that it's because he's into dudes," Kurt stated.

"Ugh, no, it's because he's a terrible actor," Blaine disagreed. "He ruined Star Wars for me, which is a big deal because _no one_ can relate to Luke Skywalker like I can."

"Well, you're right, my fake boyfriend should be someone you approve of. Any actors from the Harry Potter franchise gay?"

Blaine rolled his eyes. "I would answer that, but then I'd just be indulging you in avoiding this and we do actually need to work this out."

"Just give me another week," he bargained. "If Mercedes and I haven't worked it out by then, we'll reevaluate and take it from there. Does that sound fair, Mr. Anderson?"

"Perfectly reasonable, Mr. Hummel," Blaine replied with an affected accent, even offering his hand.

Kurt giggled and shook his hand firmly and then leaned in to seal it with a quick kiss. But before they knew it, Blaine was on top of Kurt, their hips rutting together desperately.

"_Fuck_," Blaine gasped, rolling off of Kurt. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Kurt growled as he threw a leg over Blaine to mount him. "I was enjoying that too, you know."

"But…but…" Blaine found it increasingly difficult to focus on creating words with Kurt grinding down on him. "I thought we were going to take this slow?"

"Yeah, but this is more fun," Kurt said, obliterating Blaine's resolve with every move of his hips. "And if I didn't feel comfortable with this, I would have told you and you would have stopped.

"Kurt we could get caught," Blaine told him, failing to resist the urge to keep thrusting up, "and then arrested for public indecency."

"But that's what you're enhanced hearing and vision are for," Kurt pointed out.

"Yeah, but…_damn it Kurt_….those things only work when I focus…and ah, I'm having trouble concentrating right now…"

"But you never did return that 'favor' you promised me last week …" he pouted, sliding his hands up Blaine's chest and twisting his nipples. Blaine yelped and Kurt knew he'd surrendered.

"Mmm, that was very rude of me," Blaine rumbled, pinning Kurt down in a split second. "Now, where was I?"

Kurt had been reduced to a wanton moan as Blaine rubbed him through his skin-tight jeans a few times before popping open the button and dragging down the zip.

"You look so sexy in these, but they're kind of a pain to get off," Blaine commented good-naturedly as he had to exert some force to tug the pants down to the middle of Kurt's thighs. He wasted no time mouthing Kurt's erection through his briefs.

"Blaine," Kurt panted. "Oh, Blaine…don't tease me…please Blaine…I need it…"

Blaine simply chuckled darkly and slid his underwear down to reveal Kurt's aching cock. He wetted his lips in anticipation before licking a stripe up the underside, then another one to the side of his cock, and then the other.

"_Blaaaaaaaaaaaine_," Kurt begged, his tone shamelessly wrecked.

Blaine wrapped his lips around the head and sucked for a moment or two before he swallowed Kurt's dick in one gulp. Kurt responded with an ecstatic cry, his hips bobbing up and his fingers twining themselves into Blaine's gelled locks. Blaine took it in stride though, glimpsing up at Kurt and silently giving him permission to fuck his mouth. Kurt tried to keep his moans to a minimum as he watched his cock disappear between Blaine's perfect, plump, pink lips. It was, without a doubt, the hottest thing he'd ever seen. He couldn't but tug mercilessly on Blaine's hair as he continued to plunge his dick in and out of the superhero's mouth. But if how Blaine was beginning to groan around his cock was any indication, Blaine didn't mind the yanking on his hair either.

"Oh…Blaine…mmmmsoclose…_Blaine_…" Kurt whimpered, shivering in pleasure every time Blaine sucked as his cock slipped from the wet, hot, _divine_ cavern of his mouth.

Blaine trailed his finger across Kurt's perineum back to his entrance and gently pushed at the puckered hole, causing Kurt to immediately spasm and tense, his back arching, his cum shooting into his lover's throat. Blaine gulped it down eagerly.

"You didn't tell me that blowjobs were one of your superpowers," Kurt sighed a few moments later after he'd recovered.

Blaine chuckled as he tucked Kurt back into his pants. "You didn't tell me that you taste delicious."

Kurt blushed. "I, um, thanks."

"We should get going," Blaine said, slithering up Kurt's body to lie next to him.

"But what about you?"

"Tonight was about _you_," he insisted. "I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?" Kurt questioned, standing up, watching as Blaine packed up everything in a matter of moments at super-speed.

"I'm sure," Blaine winked. "Let's get you home."

"But tonight wasn't just about me, I wanted it to be about us," Kurt argued, wrapping his arms around Blaine's middle as whispered into his ear, "What's your stance on the number sixty-nine?"

He heard Blaine groan and his knees weaken slightly at the suggestion. "What are we waiting for then?"

**A/N: I know I said this chapter was just going to be smuff, but the Kurt-Mercedes tension had to come to a head sometime! Besides Kurt CoBlaine are going to do IT soon, so I don't feel bad. Also, I can't believe this story has nearly 300 reviews! How did I get so lucky to get wonderful readers like yourselves?**

**Hearts and Stars,**

**youngandobsessed**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: Did everyone get the Tom Welling joke from the last chapter? Oh and no offense to Hayden Christensen, I'm a fan of his and he actually gives a really good performance in the movie Shattered Glass, but I thought it'd be cute to poke a little fun at him. Before we begin, shoutout to FatCake for giving me the whole idea for the disguise. Don't get what I mean? You'll see…**

Chapter 18

"So, tell me Miss Lopez, how do you envision yourself on your wedding day?"

"I wanna look hot."

The designer's brow creased at Santana's reply. "Okay, well…do you have any ideas on what style of dress you would like to wear?"

"Aren't you the designer?" she challenged. "And if what we're paying you is anything to go by, aren't you supposed to be good at it?"

Santana wished that the wedding planner, an annoying piece of woman named Marsha, would handle this, just like she'd been handling every other aspect of the wedding. But no, Dave had double teamed her and insisted that she come this appointment because the dress was "an important part of being a bride" or some shit like that. _If this was so important, than why isn't he here? He's the gay guy after all…_

"Vera Wang Bridal is one of, if not _the_, top line of wedding gowns in the world," the Asian woman asserted.

Santana rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed.

"Miss Lopez mentioned she liked Pippa Middleton's dress at the Royal Wedding," Marsha piped up from where she was seated behind Santana.

"Oh?" Vera responded, looking to the Latina for confirmation.

Santana scowled. "Listen, as long as the dress is expensive, not ugly, and I can get my sexy on in it, I really don't give rat's ass what it looks like."

"Perhaps you could skim through the look-books from past seasons and—"

"Ugh, you know what? I'm just going to let my wedding planner handle the rest of this because it's _her job_ and I'm too hung over for this," declared Santana as she gathered her things and stood up. "Plus, it's pretty obvious judging by her man hips, boy tits, and personality of a bug that just won't die no matter how many times you squash it, that no one's ever going to want to marry her anyway. Consultation over."

0-0-0

"I heard you made the wedding planner cry again," said Dave after pecking Santana on the cheek in greeting when she joined him for dinner at The Four Seasons later that evening.

"Ugh, Dave, she is _such_ a pain in the ass," Santana griped as she sat down. "I don't know why you hired her."

"Well, it was only because she's the best in the country," Dave quipped. "But I have a feeling after she's finished working with you, she'll quit the business altogether."

"I'll be doing brides everywhere a favor then," she claimed. A busboy appeared to fill their water glasses and Santana slipped into her role of doting fiancée instantaneously, grabbing Dave's hand and asking him in a chipper tone, "So, how was your day, honey?"

"Long," Dave answered, waiting for the busboy to leave before he continued. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about, actually. My sources have hypothesized that Superman lives on the Upper West Side, so that's where I'd start looking if I were you."

Santana shifted uncomfortably. "Oh, yeah…how's that going by the way? The whole finding out who he really is thing?"

"It's taking longer than I thought," Dave told her. "We've been at it two weeks and I thought we'd have our guy by now, but the men in R&D keep saying that we're on the right track…so, whatever. You know I've never been a patient man."

_That's what scares me, _she thought to herself.

0-0-0

"_Mmmmm," Kurt moaned around Blaine's cock as he spiraled his tongue around the large, thick shaft. He glanced down the length of the bed where Blaine was slurping away at his own erect member, the sight of which caused him to moan again, the vibrations then making Blaine keen himself. Kurt couldn't contain the little shiver that rippled through his body at the realization that this was probably the dirtiest thing he'd ever done. _

_In the past, the sixty-nine position had always grossed Kurt out when Tina referenced it or a boyfriend requested they try it. He had failed to see the appeal of sticking your face into someone's…but that didn't matter anymore, because sixty-nine-ing with Blaine was _hot_. He wasn't all too surprised though, since _everything_ Blaine did was hot. Like a couple weeks ago when Kurt got turned on just from watching Blaine brush his teeth, or that time he was pouring coffee…_

_Kurt was jarred back into the present when Blaine grunted and wrapped his hands around the globes of Kurt's ass, pushing him further into Blaine's mouth. Kurt doubled his efforts on Blaine's cock, he was close…so, so close…just one more—_

"Hummel, if I didn't know any better, from the way yours eyes are glazed over and the little bit of drool dribbling out of your mouth, just—" she reached and swiped the drop of moisture from his chin"—there, it positively horrifies me to suppose that you're having a fantasy of a sexual nature currently, defiling this temple of truth with your naughty boy-on-boy daydreams."

Blaine spit out the sip of coffee he had just taken, spluttering in shock.

"Look, you even scandalized poor Anderson over there, and we all know he's waiting 'til marriage," Sue said.

Kurt's face had reddened to a full-fledged scarlet. "I wasn't having a naught—" he stopped himself, further humiliated by how high his voice had risen. Kurt coughed a few times in a useless attempt to return his voice back to its normal range. "I wasn't doing that."

"I don't believe you for a second, you dirty little choirboy, I have the nearly supernatural talent of telling when people are lying. In fact, the award-winning play-turned-film Frost/Nixon was based on my interviews with Justin Bieber," Sue informed him.

"I don't think there was an ounce of anything close to truth in what you just said right there," Kurt retorted. "What is it now, Sue?"

She dropped a pile of paper that had blatantly suffered the wrath of her red editor's pen. "Just dropping off my edits, Erotic Daydream Believer."

Blaine opened his mouth to say something, but Kurt beat him to it.

"_Don't_," he warned the hero-in-disguise.

"Friday night?" guessed Blaine.

"Yeah," he mumbled, his eyes averted to the keyboard of his laptop. "How'd you know?"

"I haven't been able to stop thinking about it either," Blaine comforted him with a mischievous grin.

0-0-0

"I miss Kurt," Tina sighed as she pushed her Lo Mein around on her plate.

"You haven't made up with him yet?" Sam asked his girlfriend. He and Mercedes, along with Tina and Mike, had met for dinner at their usual Asian place over in Chinatown.

"No," Tina answered for her friend.

"_He_ yelled at _me_," Mercedes pointed out, "I don't see why I'm the one who should apologize."

Sam, Tina, and Mike all exchanged an uneasy look. They had been here before, trying to get their point across without setting Mercedes off one of her famous bitch fits, which were second only to Kurt's. Because even though Mercedes was a fiercely loyal and caring person, she had a temper that was ignited easier than a matchstick and a streak of stubbornness that made a mule seem submissive.

Sam, who as her boyfriend, was the most experienced in negotiating with Mercedes, spoke first. "Well then, maybe this is a time when you have to take the high road, honey, and just put this behind you two."

"If only we were back in Glee with Mr. Shue," Mike joked, "and you guys could just sing it out, what did he used to call it…oh, a diva-off."

"Or like that time on _How I Met Your Mother_ when Ted and Marshall decided to settle who got their apartment by having a swordfight," Sam added. He turned to address Mercedes with complete sincerity. "I give you permission to borrow my lightsabers if you want to use them."

"Yeah, I don't think that will be necessary," she replied, unfazed by her boyfriend's geekiness after three years together. "But thanks for the offer, boo."

Tina observed that the men weren't getting anywhere with her. "Hey, isn't the Yankees game starting soon? You two wouldn't want to miss the first pitch. We'll take care of the bill."

"See you at home," Sam told Mercedes, pecking her on the cheek while Mike mirrored the action on his own wife.

Once the men had left, Tina got down to business. "Mercedes, if this is about the smoking thing, it's not a big deal. I'm thinking of quitting anyway because Mike and I are thinking about starting to try for a kid**."**

Mercedes squirmed in her seat. "It's not just…well, the smoking's part of it. I miss Kurt too, but…you know me, Tina, I've never been very good at admitting I was wrong."

Tina gave her a small, sympathetic smile. "I know, but this is just Kurt, Cedes. It's not like you have to give a press conference."

"I'd rather give the press conference. Who says Kurt will forgive me? You saw how angry he was," Mercedes countered.

"He was only so angry because he was frustrated," explained Tina, "he really cares about your opinion and when you didn't support his relationship, he was hurt. And we all know that it's easier to get angry than to tell someone they hurt you, _especially_ Kurt, after all he's been through."

"Ugh, that's where he frustrates me. Because if I try to tell him that I'm worried about him, he's just going to get all defensive," said Mercedes.

"I think if you demonstrated that you listened to him and admit that maybe you've been a little envious of his career, he'll listen to you if you try to tell him that you're concerned about him," Tina assured her.

"I guess you're right," Mercedes relented. "When did you get so good at this whole conflict resolution thing, by the way?"

"Asian Couples Therapy," Tina supplied. "Mike and I have been going for years. Turns out you learn a couple things, and that it doesn't just apply to Asian Couples."

0-0-0

"Hey, Kurt!" Mercedes approached the journalist through the busy department store crowd.

Kurt looked up from the rack of sweaters he was sorting through to regard his friend. "What are you doing here?"

The dark-skinned diva sighed. Kurt was in bitch mode, and that wasn't going to make things any easier. "It's common knowledge that if Saks Fifth Avenue is having a sale, you can bet your last dollar that Kurt Hummel is going to be there…and I followed you from The Planet."

Kurt wasn't fazed. "So you stalked me because…?"

Mercedes took a cleansing breath before beginning the spiel she had rehearsed earlier. "I wanted to apologize for the way I acted last week. I'm sorry I didn't respect your judgment about Blake and that I've been more of a drama queen than usual lately," she felt a wave of relief sweep over her when Kurt couldn't resist smiling slightly at her words. "It's just…you know how protective I am, especially of the people I care about, and…Kurt, you're practically my gay husband and you deserve to be treated like a king…because I know what you've been through Kurt, and I get that it was a long time ago, but I'm always going to be looking out for you, Kurt, just like you do for me…I missed you this week, Kurt and I'm pretty sure you missed me too. So if I say I'll stop hounding you about Blake, will you consider putting this behind us?"

There was a moment of silence before Kurt replied. "Of course, Mercedes. I'm sorry I went all Mean Girls on you last week, I'll admit it was pretty immature of me."

Mercedes noticeably relaxed at Kurt's response. "So we're good?"

"We will be once we refresh your summer wardrobe," Kurt informed her playfully, linking their arms. "Now come on, let's shop."

0-0-0

"Maybe we should just tell them," mused Blaine from his spot on the floor. Kurt was sitting directly above him on the couch, massaging his neck and shoulders while NY1 was on mute in the background. He'd just told Blaine that Mercedes had invited him out to dinner on Friday, and that Blake had been invited as well, if he felt comfortable joining them.

"Blaine, honey, Mercedes and I made up," Kurt told him. "They're not going to give me a hard time about it anymore."

"Well maybe this isn't about you," Blaine replied, twisting slightly so he could look up at his boyfriend. "Maybe I'd like to engage in normal couple behavior for once and be able to go out to dinner with my boyfriend's friends."

Kurt ignored the edge in Blaine's voice and continued to knead his shoulders. "I get that Blaine, I really do, but I don't feel comfortable telling them yet."

"What, are you ashamed me?" Blaine demanded.

"_No_! If I could I'd make a 'My Boyfriend is Blaine Anderson/Superman' shirt and wear it all the time. But I'm going to be honest, I don't like lying to closest friends like I've had to lately. And the situation in which I have to lie the least is when I just call you Blake when I talk about our relationship."

"Or you could come clean and call me Blaine," he shot back. "Really, Kurt, what's the big deal?"

"We've been over this, if I told them I was dating you, I'd have to lie even more than I already am," Kurt said.

"I'm sorry I'm such an inconvenience," Blaine muttered, rising from the floor and collecting the plates from dinner.

"What's going on, Blaine?" Kurt inquired, standing up as well to address him. "Did you have a rough day or something? Because you're usually not this pissy."

"Well, I can't be Dapper Dan twenty-four seven," he called from the kitchen before reappearing. "And don't change the subject."

"I won't change the subject if you stop playing the victim," Kurt challenged. "And all I'm saying is that I'm just getting tired of pretending, you know?"

"_You're_ getting tired of pretending? My entire life is pretending! The only time I'm _not_ pretending is when I'm home with you or on the phone with my mother!" Blaine argued.

Kurt paused. Blaine didn't get irritable often, so he knew that this must be a big deal to him, and after all had Blaine had sacrificed for him, Kurt would kind of be the worst boyfriend of all time if he didn't try to work this out. Besides, Kurt and Blaine had made up barely two weeks ago, the last thing the reporter needed was another fight with the superhero.

"Okay fine, Blaine, you win," Kurt surrendered reluctantly. "I'll call Mercedes and Tina and see if they can meet up with me later tonight. This is something I'm going to have to do with them face-to-face."

Kurt sighed and picked up his phone from the Blaine's coffee table, scrolling through his list of contacts, pondering under his breath how the girls would react when they found out that _Blaine_ was the sex god he had been telling him about.

"Wait."

Kurt looked up to see that he was no longer holding his iPhone, and that it had been snatched away by Blaine, who was currently looking at him with a repentant expression on his face.

"What is it?" Kurt asked. "Do you want to come with me? I really don't think that would be a good idea—"

"No, babe, hold on. Maybe there's a way we can do this so I can go out with you and you don't have to lie any more than you already are," proposed Blaine.

"And how would we do that, exactly?" he inquired.

"Well, you know how we were joking about the whole fake boyfriend thing…and then you mentioned the pretending…what if I go to dinner Friday night _as Blake_?"

Kurt hadn't caught on yet. "What do you mean?"

"I dress up as someone else—you haven't told them too much about my appearance, have you?"

"Wait, you mean like a disguise?" Kurt questioned. Blaine nodded in confirmation, an exhilarated smile stretching across his full lips. He scoffed. "Oh, Blaine, that's an _awful_ idea. Haven't you ever seen a movie or sitcom when they do that? It always just blows up in their faces. Just give me my phone back and I'll call—"

"Just think about it for a second, Kurt," Blaine squabbled as he dodged Kurt's attempts to take his phone back. Blaine huffed and jumped up, his head just grazing the ceiling as he floated above Kurt. "You know I'm like the master of keep-away, right?"

"Ugh, get back down here!" Kurt commanded, tugging on one of Blaine's socked feet like the string of a balloon in a futile endeavor to bring him back to down to eye-level.

Next thing he knew, Kurt was pinned down on top of Blaine's bed. He labored to disregard the spike of arousal that shot through his body caused by his boyfriend being on top of him.

"Think about it," Blaine urged. "We both know I'm a pretty good actor, I mean you fainted when you found out I was Superman, remember?"

Kurt scoffed and dismissed his question with a roll of his bright blue eyes. "Is this some sort of reverse psychology? Because it's working."

"I'm being completely serious," Blaine told him, his intense gaze causing Kurt to fidget in Blaine's hold.

"Even if we do make up a Blake persona for you to play, there's still the physical aspects to think about, Blaine," Kurt pointed out.

"Easy," he replied. "Makeup. Wigs. Different clothes. You'd be surprised how easily people are fooled when they're not consciously looking for anything wrong, trust me. And I'm sure with your cosmetology skills, I could be a completely new person once you were finished. "

"I'm not sure if even _I_ could tame those eyebrows," Blaine shot him a dirty look, the aforementioned eyebrows furrowing in resentment. "But even if I gave you a makeover and you went all Stanislavsky and created a Blake character, Tina and Mercedes would _still _recognize your voice."

Blaine smirked. "You don't need to worry about that, I'm good at voices."

Kurt cocked an eyebrow. "Oh really?"

"Really. Say something."

"Like what?"

"Like anything, really," Blaine responded, sounding exactly like Kurt. "You could apologize for insulting my eyebrows _again_ or maybe—"

"Oh my God, stop that!" Kurt shrieked, wriggling to get out from under Blaine so he wouldn't feel his growing erection. _Why is this turning me on so much? _"You're freaking me out!"

"Why should I?" Blaine asked, his voice still identical to the man below him. "You seem to be enjoying it. I can even make my voice sound like Tom Welling—"

Kurt couldn't repress the resulting shudder at hearing his celebrity crush's voice coming out of Blaine's mouth. "Seriously, Blaine, you made your point."

"Ugh, you're no fun," Blaine pouted, his voice back to his own. "I'm going to remember that you like voices, though."

"Whatever," Kurt blushed, doing his best to brush off the discovery of a rather embarrassing new kink. "Back to the task at hand, and speaking of hands, could you release mine? It's not like any sneak attack of mine is going to be successful on you."

Blaine conceded and freed Kurt from his clutches.

"How are you even able to do that?" Kurt questioned, flexing his newly repossessed wrists as he sat up.

"One of the perks of being from Krypton, I guess," Blaine shrugged. "Sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable."

"Don't be, it was the good kind of uncomfortable," Kurt guaranteed him. "It's just we have bigger fish to fry than exploring how one of your abilities…_excites_ me. But just for future reference, I like British and French accents, and if you try something Spanish or Southern, I'll be required to hit you."

"Good to know," Blaine laughed.

The couple worked well into the night on inventing Blake until Kurt couldn't keep his eyes open any longer and the man that stood before him didn't act, look, or sound like Blaine Anderson. The evening ended like it always did though, Blaine and Kurt climbing into bed together, the hero cuddling his boyfriend and dozing himself for a few hours before slipping out of Kurt's embrace and tending to his crime-fighting duties.

"Oh and just for the record," Kurt said before he let sleep wash over him. "Even though turning you into Blake was fun, I still prefer you just the way you are."

"Likewise," Blaine promised, giving Kurt a gentle kiss goodnight.

**A/N: So next chapter is **_**the**_** chapter, in Kurt and Blaine get it on. And don't fret, the Kurt-Mercedes drama isn't quite over yet. I know this chapter was kind of all over the place, but it will all make sense soon! Reviews make me update sooner! **

**Hearts and Stars,**

**Youngandobsessed **


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: I KNOW, I KNOW I HAVEN'T UPDATED IN FOREVER! But I needed a little breathing room from this story for sanity's sake. The last thing I wanted is to do was force myself to write something that I'm not proud of, especially since this is such an important chapter. Thanks for your patience! **

Chapter 19

8:53 p.m. Kurt scowled at the time display on his phone. Blaine/Blake was supposed to have met him in front of Pastis thirteen minutes ago. Their dinner reservation wasn't until nine, but the couple had decided to meet earlier to go over any last minute details. Translation: Blaine was going to calm Kurt down from whatever frenzy he had undeniably worked himself into.

8:54 p.m. Well, here Kurt was, frenzying away, yet Blaine was nowhere to be found. He contemplated sending his boyfriend a "where the hell are you?" text, but Kurt realized that may have been on the wrong side of bitchy, and especially since Blaine was probably busy rescuing kittens from trees, or helping old ladies cross the street, or whatever Blaine did when he was Superman. The hero never really liked to talk about it.

_Still_ 8:54 p.m. It was going to be so weird to see Blaine as a blonde…and to have him be taller than himself…_and _to hear him speak with the Tom Welling-esque voice they'd decided on…yeah, the voice was probably what he was looking forward to the most. Now if Blaine would only _get here_ and they could get on with this.

8:55 p.m. Kurt was worrying again. Blaine never had a problem with taking the night off…what if he chickened out? _No_, Kurt told himself, _he's just running late. Blaine promised you he'd be here. _

"Kurt!" Tina's voice tore Kurt away from his intense staredown with his phone's clock. "Hey!"

"Hi!" Kurt chirped back in reply, hugging the Asian woman once the group of them had come close enough. He shared firm handshakes with Sam and Mike, exchanging pleasantries as they did so before he embraced Mercedes and pecked her on the cheek.

"So…where is he?" Tina inquired excitedly. She was actually bouncing a little on the balls of her feet from anticipation.

"Oh, he's…" Kurt faltered. "…he's running late. I was just about to call him."

The way Mercedes' face fell didn't go unnoticed by Kurt. The other three seemed ready to brush off Blake's tardiness however.

"Okay, you call him and we'll give the name for the reservation," Sam said. "See you in there, Kurt."

"Yeah," Kurt replied, a little peeved and embarrassed, as he selected Blaine's name from the list of contacts on his phone. It rang once…twice…three times…four times …and then "You've reached Blaine Anderson. Please leave your name and number and I will get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you."

_Voicemail? What the hell?_ Kurt thought to himself as he waited for Blaine's answering machine to beep and allow him to leave a message. _Why isn't he answering his phone?_ Kurt had expected Blaine to answer him immediately, bombarding him with apologies and reassurances that he'd be there in five minutes before Kurt could have gotten a word in.

"Hey, it's me. Where are you? I thought we said we'd meet at twenty before nine?" the reporter struggled to keep his voice from betraying any frustration. "Anyway, Tina, Mike, Mercedes, and Sam are already here and they're waiting for me inside and…just get here as soon as you can, okay? I know you're probably busy saving someone but I need my boyfriend right now, Blaine. I can't do this alone."

Kurt hung up and joined his friends inside the bustling restaurant. He sat down at the table, the anger inside of him at Blaine's absence growing by the second.

"So what's the deal?" Tina asked.

Kurt scrambled to think of a cover story. "He…he's…he must be working late. I'm not sure when he's going to be here."

The couples all shared concerned, wary glances.

"What exactly does Blake do, Kurt?" Sam inquired, squeezing his girlfriend's thigh in a nonverbal warning not to fly off the handle just yet.

"Law enforcement," Kurt told him. They had rehearsed this. Yet, the plan had been to answer the questions_ together_ instead of leaving Kurt to field all the questions by himself. "He's a detective and gets called on cases a lot."

"Oh cool, like CSI?" Sam said.

"Yeah, sort of," Kurt mumbled.

An awkward silence followed. Kurt kept his eyes trained downward in order to avoid Mercedes' skeptical glare and the others' sympathetic but pained smiles. How could Blaine _humiliate_ him like this? Just abandon him like this, like he didn't mean anything. Kurt hadn't felt this pathetic in a really long time. At this point, his friends probably thought that Blake wasn't even real, that he was some figment of Kurt's imagination. The anger began to bubble up inside of him as he continued his train of thought. Kurt was Blaine's boyfriend, and that usually implied he held some sort of significance in Blaine's life. But if that was true, why did Blaine always choose to attend to strangers rather than the man who had dinner waiting for him when the hero when he came home? Who fucking _worshipped _his cock for a whole hour last night to help him unwind from a strenuous day on the job? The hero had warned Kurt that things like this might happen, but he had also assured Kurt that he would make him a priority. And it seemed to Kurt that Blaine's priorities were out of whack, because Blaine knew, he _knew_ how important this dinner was to him, was _supposed_ to be for both of them. _Well if Blaine thinks when he gets back tonight that he's going to have a warm meal and a blowjob waiting for him, that son-of-a-bitch has another thing coming…_

Kurt had been so busy stewing in his own ire that he had been ignoring his friends' stilted attempts at making conversation. He was about to excuse himself and leave Blaine a voicemail in which he gave the bastard a piece of his mind when Mike asked the group, "Hey, did you guys hear about that huge earthquake?"

Kurt's stomach dropped. All of a sudden, he felt nauseous, although he hadn't had so much of a bite of the bread the busboy had brought out a few minutes ago.

"What?" he demanded.

Mike, a little shocked by the severe turn Kurt's tone had taken, expounded on his previous comment undeterred. "There was a massive earthquake this afternoon in the Pacific, near the Philippines I think. I mean, I only caught a glimpse of it as we were leaving, but it's pretty bad."

"Is Superman there?" Sam queried.

"I mean, probably," Mike answered him. "But he's got his work cut out from him. If you all could have seen the devastation—" the dancer shuddered at the memory "—and that's not even the worst of it. The expert they had on CNN said that they were expecting aftershocks, starting sometime tonight, and they put the entire area on tsunami watch."

"I-I have to go," Kurt announced abruptly, his voice thick as he rose from his chair. Without any more explanation than that, he hurried out of the restaurant, tears beginning to spill over into his cheeks.

Fortunately, Pastis was around the corner from his apartment. Yet before he could tear down the street, he felt a pull on his wrist. He whipped around to find Mercedes standing there, a concerned expression plaguing her features. "Kurt, what's wrong? Why did you just run away like that?"

"Please, Mercedes," Kurt pulled his wrist out of his friend's grasp. "Just let me go."

"Not until you tell me what's going on…oh my God, Kurt are you _crying_?" Mercedes was shocked. Kurt tended to bottle up his emotions, always hiding behind his carefully crafted mask of disinterest. So if her best friend was showing any vulnerability, especially in public, whatever was bothering him had to be serious.

"No," he responded through tears. "I need to get out of here, can't you just leave me alone?"

"It's Blake isn't it?"

"No…well, yes…sort of," he sniffled.

"I swear Kurt, that man is more trouble than he's—"

"HE IS A THOUSAND TIMES THE MAN I WILL EVER BE!" Kurt lashed out unexpectedly. "HE IS THE MOST UNSELFISH, NOBLE, SELF-SACRIFICNG PERSON I HAVE EVER MET AND I DON'T DESERVE HIM!"

"Kurt…" Mercedes began, taken aback by his outburst.

"You don't understand Mercedes!"

"I know I don't! _Help me understand_, Kurt! We're all worried sick about you. You've turned into a rollercoaster of emotions lately and we want to help you, we really do, but you won't let any of us in and it's so _frustrating _Kurt…"

"Well, I'm sorry I've been a burden of a friend," Kurt responded icily. "But if you really want to help, you'll let me have my space tonight."

Mercedes want to shake Kurt, or slap him across the face, do something, _anything_ that would stop her best friend from acting like this emotional wreck. She paused to contemplate how to handle this, but Kurt had used her hesitation as an opportunity to escape and had disappeared into the crowd and down the street.

0-0-0

Kurt flew across his apartment, barely remembering to close the door behind him and turned the TV on immediately. It was already tuned to Headline News due to Blaine's frequent visits.

"Now back to the tragic situation in the Philippines, where earlier today, at 6:39 P.M., 6:39 A.M. Filipino time, an earthquake of an 8.6 magnitude on the Richter scale rocked the archipelago. We go now to our correspondent, Anne Key, for more on this devastating developing story."

The shot of the female news anchor changed into a montage of harrowing images and clips of the damage the earthquake had already caused while another woman narrated with more information. Collapsed buildings, flooded streets, and woeful faces filled the screen, and Kurt couldn't hold back the sob the sights caused.

"…the only redeeming aspect of this story is that Superman was on the scene less than hour after the earthquake," the correspondent said. The camera cut to various shots of Blaine lifting up entire walls, carrying crying children, and a few clips were just a blur of red and blue shooting across the sky. "Locals have said that having the superhero here has been the saving grace amidst this catastrophe."

The tears were flowing freely now as Kurt watched clips of interviews talking about his boyfriend.

"Well, before we'd need a team to excavate and unbury any victims from a building," an American middle-aged man told the camera, obviously some sort of FEMA or Red Cross worker. "But with Superman here we're able to get to people out and to help in a fraction of the time than we had before, so it's really been a lifesaver, literally."

The next interview was of a young Filipino boy, his dialogue translated into English with subtitles that appeared on the bottom of the screen. "I was playing with my sister and the ground began to shake very hard, so hard it broke apart. I was very scared, I thought I was going to die. But then Superman was there and he took us up into the air, and put us down somewhere where the ground was not shaking anymore. My sister was crying, but he told us that we were okay, that we shouldn't be scared. It was very amazing. I want to be just like him when I grow up."

Kurt was crying so hard now that he old caught bits and pieces of the next interview, which was of another native, this time an old woman. She described her own experience during and after the earthquake, asserting at the end of her clip that "He is our Savior. He is an angel on Earth."

It was official; Kurt was officially the worst person on the planet. He couldn't believe how greedy he had been, how narrow-minded and selfish. How could he have gotten so upset over a stupid little dinner that meant nothing? Blaine was off saving peoples' lives and Kurt had been angry because he hadn't been the center of attention for once. He hated himself. He didn't deserve Blaine. How on Earth had he tricked himself into thinking that he was worthy of such selfless person? Superman deserved to be with someone who didn't get so ticked about him missing one measly little dinner, that didn't make him pretend any more than he had to for his own selfish preferences, that didn't make him push his physical boundaries because he was only trying to make sure he didn't get hurt.

He spent the rest of the weekend glued to his television screen, occasionally nibbling on something in his fridge and drifting off into a restless sleep. He didn't respond to any of his calls, and only kept his phone on if by some extraordinary fortunate circumstance, Blaine contacted him. He knew the probability of that happening was zero to none though, no one had been able to corner Superman for his reaction to the earthquake all weekend, the hero just flitted from one place to rescue someone or prevent something from collapsing, disappearing so quickly afterwards that the camera could barely focus on him.

Kurt looked like shit when he dragged himself to work on Monday. He didn't even want to go in the first place, but instead of calling in sick, he opted to show up so he could talk to Sue.

"No way, Hummel."

"But Sue, this is the biggest story in the world right now," Kurt argued. "I _need_ to be there."

"I know. But Anderson's already over there, apparently by some cosmic coincidence he was visiting family this weekend, and it doesn't make any sense to send another reporter. Besides, you look awful, Kurt," explained Sue, speaking sincerely for once. "I'm surprised you came to work today. You look sick and there's no way I can send you to that country if you're carrying any form of illness."

Kurt whimpered in defeat. He wished he could tell Sue what was really going on, that Blaine wasn't in the Philippines reporting, he was there as Superman. And as Superman's boyfriend Kurt had to be there too, because he knew Blaine, and that the hero put everyone else before himself, neglecting sleep and probably food because if he took a moment to himself and couldn't save someone because of it, he'd never forgive himself. Kurt knew he was the only person that could get Blaine to slow down, if only for a second, and stop him from running himself into the ground.

"Come to think of it, you're probably infecting me with whatever contagion you're currently suffering from by sharing this relatively small, closed space with me," Sue said. "I'm ordering you to go home, Hummel, and don't come back until you're in perfect health. Sue Sylvester does not get sick, getting sick is for weaklings and gingers."

"But—"

"Don't open your mouth! You're letting the germs out!" the editor-in-chief reprimanded him. She hit the intercom button on her phone. "Becky, get Hummel out of here and then call the CDC. I'm going to need my office thoroughly sterilized."

"Sure thing, boss," came Becky's voice in the speaker. She appeared a moment later. Whenever Kurt was convinced that a black hole inhabited the space where Sue's heart was supposed to be, Becky always reminded him that his boss wasn't some sort of emotionless cyborg. He let the handi-capable girl lead him out of the office.

Kurt slumped into the hard plastic of the subway seat, burying his face into his hands. _What is_ wrong _with me? _He knew he shouldn't be making such a big deal about this. Blaine was _invincible_, he was going to be fine. And even though Kurt felt about bad about getting mad at Blaine for missing dinner with his friends, he hadn't actually lashed out at his boyfriend about it. Then why was he such a wreck? Why did he miss Blaine so much? Why was he crying like hormonal woman? The moping and wallowing in his self-pity he'd been engaging for the past couple days was far from normal and healthy behavior.

Deep down, Kurt knew why. He'd known since the night Superman appeared on his balcony and took him flying. Blaine had confirmed it when he sang him Teenage Dream. And now, for the first time, Kurt was ready to let himself admit it.

_I'm in love with Blaine. _ He lifted his head from his hands as he allowed the gravity of thought to sink in. A small smile spread across his lips. _I'm _in love_ with Blaine. _

0-0-0

The remainder of the week had passed by in a flurry of productivity. Sue had forbade Kurt from coming back to the office until next Monday at the earliest, so Kurt spent his rare time off catching up on things he had been neglecting. He Skyped with his dad, Carole, Finn, got a facial, and decorated Blaine's apartment (where he'd decided to stay for the rest of the week to feel closer to him). He remained vigilant on updates from the Philippines, the TV was always on while Kurt rearranged Blaine furniture, and his Google Alerts had been set to receive any breaking news on his iPhone when he was out. Kurt missed his boyfriend terribly but the knowledge the he loved him and Blaine loved him back made the absence so much more tolerable.

0-0-0

"Kurt?"

The soft call of his name roused Kurt into wakefulness. "Hmmm?"

Blaine stood before him at the edge of the bed. His suit was tattered and torn, his hair was mussed and actually still had some pieces of rubble in it, and his eyes were bloodshot with dark bags under them. Kurt just stared at him for a few moments, blinking and trying to determine if this was a dream or not.

"Sorry I woke you up, I wasn't expecting yo—"

Blaine's apology was interrupted when Kurt sprung up out of the bed and launched himself at his boyfriend. It had been a week since he'd seen him, smelt him, touched him And now, being able to throw his arms around him felt like sensory overload after a week of deprivation.

"Oh, Blaine!" Kurt gasped as he nuzzled his neck and pressed a quick kiss into the tendon there. "I missed you, missed you so much…"

"I missed you too," Blaine told him once Kurt pulled back. "I'm sorry I missed our date, Kurt."

"Blaine, don't be silly! I'm just glad you're oka—"

"No," Blaine interjected, his voice wavering. "You needed me and I wasn't there and…"

The hero had trailed off and although it was dark in Blaine's bedroom, he could see the moisture gathering in his eyes and hear how Blaine was unsuccessfully trying to catch his breath.

"Blaine," Kurt began gently, rubbing his thumb across his boyfriend's stubbly cheek. "What's wrong?"

Blaine broke down into hysterics. At first, Kurt didn't know what to do. Blaine was always so strong and sure, he was usually the one usually who did the comforting in the relationship. After a few seconds, Kurt was able to move past the shock of seeing his superhero boyfriend cry, and maneuvered them to a sitting position on the bed and pulled Blaine tight in his arms. For several minutes, the only sounds one could hear were the hero's loud sobs and Kurt's attempts to soothe him as he bawled into his arms.

Eventually Blaine gathered up enough coherency to pull away so he could address Kurt. "I'm sorry, I—"

"Hold it right there," Kurt cut him off. "This is an apology-free zone. Now, do you want to talk about what happened?" '

"Not really, I…" Kurt waited patiently while Blaine endeavored to collect his thoughts. "It was just so awful, Kurt. It was hell. As soon as I saved someone, there was another person that needed my help, but people were still dying no matter how hard I tried. It was maddening, I have all these powers and I was using them but it felt like it wasn't making any difference, there was so much death…"

Blaine had begun to snivel again, and Kurt didn't hesitate in wrapping him back into his arms. "Shhhh, Blaine, you made a _huge_ difference. I've been watching the news nonstop this past week and everyone's been talking about all the good you did. They compared this earthquake to past ones of a similar magnitude and there was so much less death and destruction because _you_ were there, Blaine. No one can control nature, not even you, Superman, you just have to accept it and be thankful that you could do something about it with all your amazing abilities."

"You're right," Blaine conceded. The couple shifted so they were lying down and the next moments passed in silence.

"Kurt?"

"Yes, Blaine?"

"Would you still want me if I wasn't Superman?"

Kurt frowned and propped himself up so he could get a better look at Blaine. "_What_?"

"Would you still be into me if I didn't have my powers, if I was just me?"

Kurt opened his mouth, ready to ask Blaine how he could even think that and that frankly, inform that he was a little insulted that Blaine thought he liked him only for his hero alter-ego. He caught himself however, and reminded himself that Blaine wasn't in the best mental state. "Of course, dear."

"But you used to call me Lame Anderson at work," Blaine pointed out. Kurt could tell that his voice was faltering again.

"Oh Blaine, I only called you that because I was jealous of you. You were getting all the big stories while my exposé was going nowhere. And that was before I went out with you, before you let me see the real you, the amazing man who takes me to French restaurants and sings me love songs and lets me decorate their apartment. You're the most remarkable person I've ever met, and I…I love you, Blaine."

"You…you do?" Blaine spluttered.

"I do," Kurt assured him, placing his hands on either side of Blaine's face and kissing him. "I have for a while now, but I…I was afraid to admit it. But with you gone this week, I realized how difficult it's become for me to live without you."

"Oh Kurt," Blaine exhaled and captured his lips for another kiss. More tears had appeared in his eyes, yet Kurt knew they were happy kind. "I never stopped thinking of you this week. You were what got me through when I was surrounded by all that darkness, you were like this ray of light that kept me going."

Now Kurt was crying too. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," Blaine replied before crashing their lips together. Their lips moved against each other's languidly, communicating what they couldn't verbally, slowly allowing the passion and intensity to build. When Blaine moved to straddle Kurt, their erections brushed against another's, causing them to gasp into each other's mouths. "I…Kurt, I want to…"

"_Yes_," Kurt keened, thrusting his hips up into Blaine's. "_Please_ make love to me."

Blaine dove back down for another fiery kiss as his hands found the hem of Kurt's (well technically it was his, but Blaine loved that fashionista boyfriend like to wear his clothes, so he had no complaints) shirt and tugged it over his head, throwing it off to side. He kissed Kurt on the lips once before he began a trail of kisses down Kurt's neck and chest, pausing to lick at each of his nipples before continuing his descent to the waistband of the sweatpants his boyfriend was sporting. He pulled the fabric down Kurt's long, slender, perfect legs, pausing only to press a kiss into the tip of his cock on his way down.

Once the pants were discarded, Blaine straightened up to rid himself of his now ragged suit and shorts while Kurt reached into the drawer for the lube. They met for another kiss and Kurt pressed the bottle into Blaine's hand before resting back onto the bed while Blaine wet his fingers.

Kurt held his breath with anticipation and let his eyes flutter shut as he waited for the first of Blaine's fingers to penetrate him. The last time they had gotten any butt play was a couple weeks ago when Blaine blew him for the first time and Kurt had been aching for more ever since.

"_I can't_."

The two strangled words caused Kurt's eyes to snap open, and were met with the sight of a tormented Blaine, clutching onto the bottle of lube helplessly.

"I'm too afraid Kurt, I'm so tired and—" Blaine was beginning to cry again.

"No no no no no," Kurt said quietly, immediately sitting up to be face-to-face with Blaine. "I completely understand, Blaine, it's fine. I forgot what kind of week you had. We shouldn't do this tonight. Let's get some rest and we'll reconsider it tomorrow."

Blaine didn't look any less agonized. Kurt sighed in exasperation. "What is it, Blaine? You have to tell me what's wrong or I can't help you."

"I really want to do this tonight," he confessed, his eyes averted. "I need to feel close to you."

"Okay, well…" Kurt struggled to think of something that would mollify his boyfriend. "Do you want me to top? It'd be safer that way, right?"

Blaine looked at Kurt with shock. "You'd do that?"

"I'd do anything for you. I love you," Kurt reminded him as he pressed a kiss to Blaine's unresponsive lips.

"You're sure?"

Even though it had always been an unspoken accordance that Blaine would top when they finally got around to doing the deed, it was obvious that Blaine couldn't handle trying to keep his strength in check tonight after all he'd been through.

"Positive," Kurt promised him, kissing him and procuring the bottle of lube from Blaine's fingers. "Now lie back. I'm going to take care of you."

Blaine complied and flopped back down on the bed. Kurt paused momentarily to revel in the sight of the perfection that lay before him before leaning into kiss and nip at Blaine's neck as his lubed finger circled Blaine's entrance. He felt Blaine shudder beneath him at the touch and smiled into the patch of skin on the hero's neck he was concentrating on. He let his finger skirt around his hole for a little longer before he pushed inside.

"_Ohhhhhhhh,_"Blaine moaned as Kurt inched his finger in further.

"Does that feel alright?" Kurt asked, though he was pretty sure he knew the answer.

"Better than alright," the hero panted as Kurt resumed his ministrations to his neck. "_Amazing_."

"Mmmmm," Kurt hummed, beginning to move the digit in and out. He allowed Blaine to adjust to the feeling of something inside of him before asking for permission to add another one. Blaine acquiesced immediately, and by the time Kurt had three fingers working into Blaine, his boyfriend was a writhing, wanton mess on top of the sheets. Kurt drew his mouth away from where he'd been nibbling on Blaine's ear to look him in the eyes and ask, "Are you ready?"

"Oh yes, Kurt, _God yes_," Blaine replied, his voice wrecked.

Kurt sat back on his heels, mesmerized by the sight of Blaine's large erection, standing at full attention and leaking, as well as his hole, opened and waiting for his cock. He went to grab the lube, but Blaine beat to him to it and took hold of Kurt's dick, stroking him at a slow pace to thoroughly smear the lubricant all over him.

Kurt groaned and grabbed Blaine's wrist to stop him. "Blaine…that's enough or I'll…"

The hero didn't need for Kurt to finish his sentence to get the message. He removed his hand from his lover's cock and spread his legs a little more in anticipation. Kurt braced his hands on either side of Blaine's head and before he slid, almost painfully slowly, into Blaine's tight heat. Both men let out their own respective cries of ecstasy at the sensation of becoming one.

Kurt began to move. He made sure to keep his thrusts slow at first, he wanted to savor the experience. Yet slow became increasing difficult when Blaine wrapped his legs around Kurt's hips to draw in him further, causing him to change his angle slightly and—

"AH! SHIT! Right there, Kurt, _right there,_" Blaine shouted as he squeezed around Kurt's length.

"Oh! Oh…okay," Kurt replied, slamming his eyes shut as he tried to keep himself from coming. "You feel so good Blaine…"

"You too, Kurt, _unnngh_, so good," Blaine told him while Kurt continued to thrust, now hitting his prostate with every stroke of his cock.

There wasn't any more speaking after that, Kurt had dropped down to his elbows and claimed Blaine's lips as he moved in and out of Blaine. The kisses were much sloppier than the ones before, all open-mouthed with tons of tongue, which added to the passionate desperation of the moment. Kurt could feel himself getting close, so he snaked his hand down in between their sweat-slicked bodies to fist Blaine's cock with the hope that they might climax together, or close to together at any rate.

Blaine, whose super-endurance had been drained from the sleeplessness and for the most part nourishment-less week, was the first to let go, his hot seed spraying his stomach and Kurt's as the fire of his orgasm consumed every inch of his body. The subsequent fluttering of his muscles caused Kurt to empty himself inside of Blaine a few moments later with a loud cry, his vision whiting out as he did so.

Kurt collapsed on top of Blaine for a second, their sweat and Blaine's cum between them. They shared another meaningful kiss.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

Kurt rolled off of the hero to fetch a wet washcloth from the bathroom before returning to his blissed-out boyfriend, who was sprawled out on the bed. He cleaned them with light, gentle strokes, just as Blaine always did before tossing the washcloth with the rest of their long-forgotten clothes on the floor. Blaine wasted no time encircling his arms around Kurt, the press of his lips against the back of his neck the last thing Kurt registered before drifting off to sleep.

**A/N: Yay for Klaine sex! In the next chapter the boys will put the **_**super**_** into super-sex, but come on, their first time had to be all romantic and slight angsty (I was listening to Candles the entire time, go figure). But yeah, get pumped for super-sex…I have plans…so many naughty, naughty plans…**

**Oh! While I was away, I started a fic called **_**You're a God**_** in which Blaine is a Greek God who falls in love with Kurt, who is a mortal. It's sexy times galore and you should check it out if while I try to carve out time from my increasingly more hectic back to school schedule to write more.**

**Speaking of which—REVIEWS! I NEED THEM! They are what make me put off school work and socializing and exercising to write! So keep 'em coming and I love you all forever for doing so!**

**Hearts and Stars,**

**youngandobsessed**


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: Ah! I know it's been an obscenely long time since I've updated, but it's been the usual, school and life got in the way. Thank you all for your patience. Oh! And I don't know if you saw this picture from the Emmys but I'm pretty sure it's evidence that Darren reads my story, check it out:  
>www [dot] eonline [dot] comiglamcam/2011/emmys/62 (You have to scroll a bit through the pics on the side to see Darren's. Thanks to Ghostly Green and Implied Awesome for clueing me in!) Also, for those of you who read **_**You're a God**_**, I'm working on it, I promise! It's just taking a while because it's going to be a really long (and therefore really smutty) chapter.**

Chapter 20

Kurt groaned a little, rolling over as he entered back into wakefulness. When his eyes finally fluttered open, he was met with sight he'd never seen before. Blaine's face, peaceful with sleep, was six inches from his. Kurt never got to wake up with Blaine, he was always returned to his apartment sometime during the night. The reporter laid there silently, his eyes roving over Blaine's features—his long, dark eyelashes, those full pink lips—down to his bare chest, admiring the sculpted muscle and the smattering of chest hair there. Unable to resist, Kurt let himself trace the subtle curve of one of Blaine's high cheekbones with his thumb. The hero registered the touch and shuddered a little before he blearily looked around, grunting as he regained consciousness.

"Hey, handsome," Kurt cooed.

Blaine chuckled, his voice low and gravelly from sleep. "Hey yourself."

They kissed good morning chastely (Kurt had a strict No Open-Mouthed Kisses Before Toothpaste rule). "I didn't mean to wake you up, you just looked so sweet."

"Don't worry about it," Blaine dismissed his boyfriend's apology. "What times is it, anyway?"

"A little after nine," Kurt told him after glancing at the clock on Blaine's bedside table.

"Wait, _really_?" Blaine sounded a lot more awake as he looked at the time for himself.

"You don't have to get up now though," Kurt told him, kissing the part of Blaine's cheek that wasn't covered in stubble. "I'll make breakfast and we can eat in bed."

"Babe, I have to get up," the hero pointed out as he sat up. "I've got to get going—"

"What?" Kurt's brow creased in displeasure. "Blaine, you just got back."

"I know, but there's still a lot more to do and—"

"No," he placed his hand on Blaine's chest to stop him. "You're not going anywhere."

"Kurt, I don't want to go either but—"

"_No_," Kurt said with more emphasis. "This isn't even about me being angry that you're abandoning me the morning after we had proper sex for the first time. Blaine, you had a nervous breakdown last night. You need a break. If you go back out there you're doing everyone a disadvantage, especially yourself. Besides, you're suit is ripped. You can't go off to save the day with holes in your clothing, as a fellow gay male and your boyfriend, that's where I draw the line."

The hero laughed again and removed Kurt's hand from his chest to bring it to his lips for a kiss. "Will you mend my suit for me? I know how much you like it."

"Only if you stay in bed with me. I know how much you like _that,_" Kurt countered as he moved to straddle his boyfriend's naked lap under the sheets.

"_Mmm_," Blaine moaned as Kurt began to grind their morning wood together. "You were so good last night baby; I guess it would be rather rude of me not to thank you for such a fantastic fuck."

Kurt whimpered at his words as Blaine flipped him over and hovered above Kurt for a moment.

"Blaine, we haven't brushed yet," he cautioned half-heartedly.

Blaine smirked at the warning. "Who says I'm kissing your mouth?"

And with that, the hero dragged his tongue from the hollow where Kurt's collarbones met down to the base of his member. He glanced up at Kurt deviously for an instant before sinking his mouth around his lover's shaft and sucking immediately.

Kurt wasn't sure if the sound he were making were just unintelligible syllables, or half-formed words, or maybe just cries and moans, because Blaine had a knack for sending every coherent thought that wasn't _hot, wet, damn, Blaine, more, fuck, _and _YES! _out of Kurt's mind when he gave head. Kurt's hands had slid down and threaded themselves loosely into Blaine's curls as his boyfriend continued his tortuous pleasure. He was so lost in the feel of Blaine's mouth around him that he didn't register the sound of a cap being popped open or the sound of liquid being squirted out. However, he _did_ feel the press of a slick finger probing at his entrance, which caused Kurt to yelp, his hips to thrust deeper into Blaine's mouth, and his fingers to yank on Blaine's hair simultaneously as the digit slipped into his tight heat.

"Unnnngh, Blaine!" Kurt moaned shamelessly as the hero continued to work his mouth over his dick. "Oh, Blaine that feels so good…_more_, Blaine, I need more!"

The hero acquiesced and inserted another finger, earning another cry of satisfaction and more rambling from Kurt. "Oh fuck, Blaine…you feel so good inside me….ungh, can't wait until it's your cock…"

Blaine couldn't help but groan and rut against the bed at hearing those deliciously dirty words tumble from Kurt's lips. Although he wanted nothing more to replace his fingers with his now throbbing member, Blaine didn't feel totally secure yet in his control.

"Soon," he gasped, pulling his mouth off of Kurt's cock and swapping it with hand. He watched his fingers disappear over and over into Kurt's hole mesmerized. "I promise baby, soon…fuck, you're so hot Kurt…so fucking sexy…"

"So close," Kurt keened, surrendering to the molten pleasure racing through his veins. "Oh, Blaine..._YES_, I'm coming_, I'm coming_! Nnngh, Supe—" Luckily Kurt wasn't completely blinded by orgasm and caught himself before he finished that thought "—I, uh, _BLAINE_!"

The reporter was so shaken by the fact he almost called out his boyfriend his alter-ego's name in bed that Kurt forgot about Blaine entirely until he felt a splash of hot semen on his chest. He looked up at Blaine, who didn't seem to notice that there was anything wrong, and sighed in relief. After how insecure the hero had been last night about Kurt only liking him for his superpowers, he knew that calling Blaine Superman while they were intimate would be nothing short of disastrous. He tried to brush it off and just be thankful that nothing happened, allowing Blaine to guide him into the shower.

0-0-0

Kurt still hadn't been able to forget about his almost slip-up even by the time Sunday night rolled around. He had been able to convince Blaine to take the weekend off to recover and for Kurt to repair the suit. Kurt had condemned the damaged scrap of spandex, insisting on making Blaine a new one altogether, if only to keep Blaine around a little longer. Even though Kurt felt incredibly honored that Blaine trusted him with such an important task, he was still kind of pissed the hero wouldn't even _listen_ to any suggestions he had on how to make the costume less hideous.

"You know what's interesting," Kurt began conversationally from his sewing machine. After spending the majority of Saturday either eating, napping, or having desperate reunion sex at Blaine's, they had migrated over to Kurt's place so he could work on the suit.

"What, baby?" Blaine called from the couch where, for once, he wasn't watching the news, but _West Side Story_ instead. Kurt had half a mind to scold his boyfriend for talking with a mouthful of popcorn, but he was just glad Blaine was allowing himself to replenish his strength in front of Kurt and not put on a tough guy act like he sometimes did.

"Your cape is completely unscathed," observed Kurt as he examined the red fabric once again, "while the rest of your suit is pretty beat up."

"That's because the cape is actually from Krypton," Blaine explained, stuffing another handful of popcorn into his mouth.

"_Really_?" Kurt inquired, now inspecting the cloth with a sense of awe.

"Yeah, my parents found it in the spaceship with me all those years ago," Blaine told him before humming "Something's Coming" along with Tony on the screen.

"So you wear your baby blanket as a cape when you fight crime?" Kurt surmised skeptically.

Blaine shot him a look. "Don't judge."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he retorted, abandoning the nearly finished suit to join Blaine on the couch. He studied his boyfriend, who still immersed in Richard Beymer's performance. "Blaine, can I ask you something?"

The hero faced Kurt with a smile on his face. "Yeah, what is it?"

_I can't believe I'm actually going to do this, _Kurt thought to himself. "This is going to sound weird and if you don't want me to it's okay and I totally get it because you were so distraught Friday night, but…?"

Blaine simply looked at him, speechless. Kurt interpreted this as offense. "Shit! I'm sorry! It's just when…um, when we were…_you know_ yesterday I almost…Gaga this is embarrassing, but I almost said Superman when I was…yeah. You know I love you for you Blaine, but I just don't want you to be angry if I say _it_ while we're…"

Blaine couldn't help but laugh as Kurt trailed off. "Kurt, calm down, it's fine. I'm sorry I freaked out on you Friday night."

"You're sure?" Kurt asked, only now able to pull his gaze up from his feet.

"Well, there's only one way to be _sure_," he pointed out, his voice shifting from tender to insinuating.

Kurt caught on immediately. "You've got a point there, _Superman_."

Blaine groaned, his legs spreading instinctively, as he reached for the remote to turn off the movie. "Go on."

"Hmmm, but I'm not sure what will excite a stud like Superman," Kurt mused, leaning in to whisper into Blaine's ear. "Should I tell him how badly I want to ride his _big, thick_ cock?" The hero whined in need, encouraging Kurt to continue. "Or maybe I should talk about how strong he is, and how much I like to ogle his muscles in that sexy, skin-tight suit of his…" The reporter glanced down at Blaine's crotch and was rewarded with the sight of the long line of Blaine's cock tenting his sweatpants "…then again, maybe Superman would like to know how much it turns me on that even though everyone wants to sleep with him, and I mean _everyone_, he wants me and _only_ me. It just makes me want to let him do _whatever _he wants to me _all night long_ and—"

Kurt felt the familiar rush of movement and color that indicated that Blaine was moving at super-speed. By the time things slowed down to a speed where Kurt could actually register what was going on, he was naked and on top of Blaine, who was naked as well, staring up at him with onyx eyes. "Superman likes when boys keep their promises. Are you going to ride my cock like you said you would, or is Superman going to have to punish you?"

"Wait, Blaine, what?" Kurt asked, dropping the charade suddenly.

"What, is something wrong?" Blaine questioned in reply, abandoning his authoritative role just as quickly.

"No, I just want to make sure…it sounded like you wanted to top," Kurt said cautiously. "Are you sure you're ready? I don't want to pressu—"

"I'm ready," Blaine's voice was resolute. "But um, like I said, it'd be best if we did it with you on top because there'd be less—"

"—chances for things to get out of control, I get it," Kurt finished for him, chuckling. "Trust me, you're not the only one who's thought about this."

"Is that so?" Blaine crooked an eyebrow, stretching and folding his arms behind him, resting his head on his forearms arrogantly. "I'm not totally convinced you're worthy of Superman's cock though. Like you said, a lot of people want it. You're going to have to show me if you can prepare that pert, tight ass of yours for my big dick."

When Kurt's brain had recovered from short-circuiting, he climbed off Blaine's lap to grab the lube from the nightstand and resituated himself so he was straddling Blaine, but facing his feet so the hero had a perfect view of what he was about to do to himself. He couldn't help but smile knowingly at the moan Kurt heard coming from behind him when his index finger began to trace his hole.

"_Fuck_, Kurt, put it in already," he heard Blaine plead.

"Whatever you say, Superman," Kurt intoned as he pushed his finger past the ring of muscle. "Hmmm, feels good."

"Not as good as my cock will," Blaine challenged him. Kurt looked over his shoulder and saw that the hero was stroking the aforementioned appendage languidly as he watched Kurt prep himself. "Like what you see?"

Kurt nodded vigorously and inserted another finger, loving the way how even when Blaine was being all haughty, his eyes still glazed over when the reporter touched himself. They continued like that for a while, Blaine watching Kurt stretch himself while Kurt watched Blaine jerk off, the pair only communicating only in broken moans and sighs of pleasure.

"Do you think you're ready, babe?" Blaine inquired.

"_So_ ready, Superman," he assured him.

"Let me see," the hero insisted, gently batting away Kurt's hand and replacing his fingers with four his own. Kurt couldn't resist the loud moan the intrusion caused, and squeezed Blaine's thighs to keep himself in check, knowing his vice-like grip wouldn't cause any pain to the superhero. The Kryptonian's fingers probed him for a little bit, stretching him as thoroughly as possible before he lifted Kurt up and turned him around. He paused to put a condom on at super-speed and then, in a much gentler tone than he'd been speaking in for the past thirty minutes, Blaine asked Kurt "Are you ready?"

"Yes," Kurt exhaled as he reached behind himself to grab Blaine's cock and slowly lowered himself onto it. Both men screwed their eyes shut as soon as the head of Blaine's cock breached Kurt's entrance, Blaine trying to keep himself from coming and Kurt trying to accommodate his boyfriend's size as quickly and painlessly as possible. After what felt like hours, Kurt's hips were finally flush with Blaine's hips and they opened their eyes to look at each other.

"You good?" Blaine gritted out.

"Good's a bit of understatement," Kurt informed him breathlessly, bracing his hands on Blaine's well-defined pecs. "How 'bout you?"

"Fucking fantastic," he groaned.

"I should probably move then."

"Nnngh, _please_."

Kurt raised and dropped himself on Blaine's cock, setting a slow and sensual pace. If it were anyone else, he'd be ticked that his lover's hands weren't on him, guiding him, but Kurt knew the only reason Blaine wasn't touching him was because he was reining in his self-control, and if he didn't, Blaine could crush him. Eventually, Blaine's hands came to rest on the sides of his hips and he began meeting Kurt's thrusts.

"Kurt, you feel so…_ungh_, there aren't even any words for it, Kurt," Blaine told him as they moved together.

Kurt mewled in response, his eyes drifting shut again as he concentrated on the drag of the long, thick girth inside of him. Gradually, their angle changed, and although Kurt's legs had lost their traction on the bed, but the head of Blaine's cock was now pressed right up against his prostate. He was ready to dismiss the mysterious alteration in position until crown of his head bumped against something.

"Um, Blaine…"

"Yeah, babe?"

"We're floating."

The superhero's eyes snapped open, and low and behold, the top of Kurt's head was just grazing the bedroom ceiling. "_SHIT!_"

Abruptly, the couple plummeted back down to the bed for a rather harsh landing. Kurt howled at the how the impact onto the mattress drove Blaine's member into his opening roughly.

"Sorry!_ Fuck_, Kurt, I'm _so_ sorry," Blaine apologized, immediately lifting Kurt off of him and placing him gingerly back on the bed beside him. "You're not hurt, are you? Fuck, I can't believe I…I haven't done that since I was like fifteen…oh my _God_, Kurt baby, I'm so sorry!"

Now it was Kurt's turn to laugh. "Blaine, are you kidding? That was _awesome_," he assured his lover, clambering back on top of Blaine eagerly.

"Buh-but," Blaine stammered as Kurt mounted him and began rubbing his ass against his cock. "I…I _hurt _you."

"So I'll be a little extra sore in the morning, it's nothing I can't handle," Kurt told him breezily. He leaned over to capture Blaine's lips in a searing kiss of reassurance. "_Now fuck me into the ceiling, Superman_."

Blaine's eyes rolled back into his head. "Shit, are you _trying _to make me come early?"

"Where would be the fun in that?" Kurt replied coquettishly as he lined himself up with Blaine's dick once again.

The hero waited to be completely sheathed by his lover's tight heat before he told Kurt, "Okay, I'm going to lift off."

"Go for it," Kurt urged him, gripping Blaine's shoulders in preparation.

Slowly but steadily, Blaine hovered higher and higher until the back of Kurt's body was pressed against the ceiling. Blaine checked to make sure Kurt was okay once more before he started to thrust again, peppering Kurt's neck with kisses and nips as he did so.

_This has to be dream_, Kurt told himself, _like that time me and Superman were getting it on the ice palace. _He tried to document every detail he could—the press of Blaine's warm solid body keeping him pinned to the ceiling, the way their fingers were intertwined on either side of his head, the grunts of exertion Blaine made every time he pushed his length back inside Kurt, the press of his lips and the tingle of the hero's exhalations on his skin, the feeling of incredible fullness Blaine's cock gave him, the rush of adrenaline from the novelty of the position, the undeniable love that pervaded every fiber of his being when he was one with Blaine—just in case Kurt was right, and this was too wonderful to be real.

Blaine's thrusts eventually became more erratic and his hand wrapped around Kurt's leaking cock and began to pump at super-speed.

"Oh! _Oh_, Superman…Super—_Blaine_! _Yes_, _Blaine_! I'm…I'm almost—"

"Come on, come with me, Kurt," Blaine coaxed him in a low, rough voice Kurt had only heard the hero speak in once or twice at most. "Come for Superman."

Kurt didn't need any more encouragement than that, his back arching and erupting onto both of their chests as Blaine's hips stuttered as well and emptied himself inside the condom.

Neither of them could even remember how to formulate words until they had descended back to the bed and Blaine had smoothly extracted himself from inside of Kurt, tying off the condom and tossing it in the wastebasket near the bed.

"I love you," Kurt told him, snuggling up to Blaine's side, blissfully ignorant of the drying cum on his stomach.

"I love you too," Blaine replied with a kiss to his forehead, "so much."

"I can't believe we just had sex on the ceiling," Kurt marveled as he ran his finger along the streaks of his semen that coated Blaine's chest.

Blaine let out a tired laugh. "God, I know."

"We need to do it again," Kurt declared, sucking his cum-coated finger into his mouth.

"Babe, keep doing that and I'll get hard again," the hero admonished him.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "It's not _my_ fault you have a thirty-second recovery time."

"Hey, that thirty-second recovery time has been very good to us if I recall correctly," Blaine pointed out fondly.

"That's true," Kurt conceded, "but you tired me out, Superman."

Blaine smiled at the mention of his alter-ego. "We need to do_ that_ again, too. It was mind-blowingly sexy."

"Mmmm," Kurt hummed in agreement, doing his best to fight off sleep for another few minutes so he could cuddle with Blaine a little longer.

"I'm just so glad I didn't hurt you," Blaine sighed, running a hand through Kurt's mussed chestnut locks.

"You would never hurt me, Blaine."

That was true, but Blaine couldn't get his father's words out of his head: _your enemies will discover their only way to hurt you—by hurting the people you care for_.

**A/N: Ooooh, ominous foreshadowing…whatever could it mean? I hoped you liked the super sex. I've had the sex on the ceiling idea for FOREVER and I'm glad I've reached the point in the story where I finally got to write it! Now, we all know that this is when I beg you all for reviews, but also let me thank you as well, because hot damn, I have over 350 of them! Seriously though, I can't believe the success of the story and am forever indebted to you all for supporting it! **

**Hearts and Stars,**

**youngandobsessed**


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: I'M BAAAAACK! So exams are FINALLY over and I'm now officially on break! Therefore, I'll have a lot more time to write! Thank you all for being so patient, I've decided to give you a little bit of everything in this update—Sue insults, Kurtcedes drama, Klaine smut, and Kurtofsky…yeah, I said it. Now go on and read. **

Chapter 21

"Jeez Kurt, are you sure you're alright? You look like you need a chair more than I do."

Kurt ground his teeth and continued to hobble along the cinched ground. Sue had gotten the reporter clearance to investigate one of the explosion sites and Artie had come along to document anything significant they found. Artie had started working at _The Planet _around the same time Kurt did, and they had always been friendly, thanks to back when he and Tina had dated once upon a time.

"I'm fine," he muttered, trying ineffectively to ignore the burning pain that shot up his backside every time he took a step.

"Someone had a good weekend," the photographer teased as wheeled along beside Kurt.

He couldn't argue with Artie there. This weekend had proven that waiting to make love with Blaine had been_ so_ worth it. Unfortunately, the—quite literally—_super_ sex and the joys of having a well-endowed boyfriend had come with some side effects: mainly, the near-crippling soreness Kurt was dealing with right now. He didn't dare let Blaine know about the pain though, because if the hero found out, he'd flip, then beat himself up for hurting Kurt no matter how vehemently the reporter insisted that he had _loved every freaking minute of it,_ and they'd be back to square one sex-wise. Thank McQueen he hadn't had any reason to get up from his desk frequently this morning at The Planet or Blaine definitely would have noticed Kurt's altered stride.

"Stay out of my sex life, Abrams," Kurt shot back playfully. "Speaking of which, seduced any babes lately?

Artie laughed. "Well, I've actually started dating this one girl. We're not exclusive yet and she's a little slow on the uptake, but damn she's a dancer and has got the body of a—"

"Okay, gay guy here, remember?" Kurt interjected, albeit fondly.

The photographer chuckled. "Right, sorry man. Anyways, things are looking good for this playa."

"Happy to hear it," he replied.

The pair walked along for a couple more minutes in silence, with the exception of the click of Artie's camera every few seconds, before one spoke again.

"So, what exactly are we supposed to be looking for?" Artie inquired, his eyes scanning the large, desolate crater.

Kurt sighed. "I don't know. The lab work came back and the remains here match the chemicals in the stolen missiles, but other than that, I'm not sure. I just figured since Sue got us clearance it couldn't hurt to check it out."

"What do you think this person is planning?"

"Ugh, I don't know about that either," Kurt groaned. "Our best lead is that this is some sort of terrorist group, which could explain why they haven't made any secret of testing their firepower like this. However, no group has come forward and declared themselves connected to the explosions, and there haven't been any video tapes released with threats or demands…"

"Weird," commented Artie.

"Very," Kurt concurred.

They continued to inspect the site, strolling the circumference of the crater a few more times before giving up. Little did they know, Artie hadn't been the only one there with a camera.

"Yeah, put me through to Mr. Luthor," the henchmen said gruffly into the receiver of his cell phone. "I don't care if he's busy! He's going to want to see this…"

0-0-0

Once back at _The Daily Planet's_ headquarters, Kurt and Blaine were immediately summoned to Sue's office.

"Wood Nymph, I can literally smell the putrid scent of failure rolling off of you and polluting my office, which leads me to conclude that your little excursion with Wheels to the explosion site today was an absolute disappointment," Sue began.

Kurt rolled his eyes, "We're working on it, Sue."

"Anyway, you must be wondering why I called you two here, especially you Kurt, since you've been hideously underperforming lately," she continued. "Well, I've just received word from the Mayor himself that next week he will be presenting Superman with the key to the city."

Blaine gasped involuntarily. Kurt had to resist the urge to reach for his boyfriend's hand.

"I know, Tom Thumb, I nearly wet myself with excitement as well," Sue responded. "Naturally, I want you to cover the event since the two of you seem to be the only journalists in Metropolis who can get a hold of Superman. I want another interview with the hero himself, one with the Mayor and not just a statement from his press people, and the reactions of the adoring citizens, you know, all that heartwarming crap."

"Of course Sue," Kurt replied. "It'd be an honor."

Sue stared at him incredulously. "Wait a minute, either someone has slipped a Percocet into the girly froth you call coffee or that tightness of your pants has finally cut of all circulation to your head. You're actually accepting to work with Anderson over here without a long and ultimately futile argument?"

_Shit! _Kurt froze and shared a momentary glance with Blaine. He scrambled to get back into bitch mode as quickly as possible. "I know how to pick my battles, Sue. Besides, Blaine knows better than to get in the way of me and my Pulitzer."

Blaine nodded emphatically in agreement for good measure. "I sure do, Ms. Sylvester."

"Whatever you say, Eyebrows ," Sue said "Now get out of my office. That goes for you too, Smurfette."

As both men filed out of the Editor-in-Chief's office, they exchanged a look that clearly translated to _Later. _While Blaine headed back to his desk, Kurt did his best to stride over to Mercedes desk. The columnist was immersed with whatever piece of gossip she was typing up when Kurt said her name.

Mercedes looked up from her work with a disinterested glare. "Yes?"

"Hey," Kurt began uneasily, he knew he had some major explaining to do. "I wanted to apologize for the drama queen routine I pulled Friday night. I shouldn't have lashed out at you like that."

"Yeah, you shouldn't have," Mercedes agreed, her eyes focusing back on her computer screen, her tone of voice remaining apathetic.

Kurt sighed. "Come on, 'Cedes, I'm trying here."

The dark-skinned girl finally gave him her full attention to reply. "That's not the point. I don't like what's been happening between us. We've been fighting more frequently than ever, I barely see you outside of work anymore, and when I think about when all of this started happening, it was when you started going out with Blake."

"That's not true—" Kurt attempted to interject.

"Kurt, the last time I saw you cry in public was at Junior Prom when they announced that you had won Prom Queen," Mercedes cut him off. "And that was just in front of the Glee Club. Now all of a sudden you're leaving crowded restaurants in tears over a guy?"

"Blake had a family emergency. I felt bad for getting pissed at him for being there," Kurt lied pitifully.

"That man is no good for you," Mercedes asserted.

Kurt hesitated, torn between groveling and defending himself to Mercedes. "Can you _please _just respect my decision here?"

"As long as you respect my decision not to talk to you until you've gotten rid of that loser," she countered.

"_Mercedes_," Kurt pleaded, his heart heavy. He couldn't believe it, Kurt and Mercedes never let guys get in the way of their friendship. The reporter opened his mouth, a heartfelt appeal on the tip of his tongue when the phone on Mercedes's desk rang.

"Mel Manton," Mercedes answered the phone with her pen name.

Kurt studied her for a moment incredulously as she ignored him before shuffling back to his desk in defeat. He could tell Blaine was itching to address what had just happened but Kurt shot him the same _later _look.

0-0-0

That evening, Kurt had candles lit, jazz softly playing, and Blaine's favorite meal, lobster mac and cheese (even though the calorie count was _astronomical, _Kurt could make allowances every once in a while) waiting on the table. The reporter had just settled down on the couch with his laptop when he heard a voice.

"What's all this?"

Kurt's head snapped up to reveal Blaine, dressed in superhero garb, leaning on the doorframe of his balcony. Even after these past few months, the sight of Superman never failed to take Kurt's breath away.

"We're celebrating," he explained simply, moving his laptop to the coffee table and pushing himself up across the room to greet Blaine.

"Celebrating?" Blaine repeated curiously, taking a few steps toward Kurt so the two men met in the middle of living room in an embrace.

"Well, it's not every day the man you love gets the key to the city," he pointed out, nuzzling Blaine's neck before connecting their lips in a languid kiss.

"Hmmm, I guess you have a point there," the hero conceded.

"I'm assuming your mother already knows?" Kurt asked, pressing kisses into the strong line of his boyfriend's jaw.

"Of course," he chuckled. "I called her as soon as I got off work. She wanted to fly in for the ceremony, but a potential buyer from Tulsa is supposed to meet with her the same day about the corn crop. It's disappointing, but we can't be turning away any business these days."

"They'll be plenty of pictures and videos and articles written by Superman himself to help her feel like she was actually there," Kurt offered softly. When all he received in reply with an unsatisfied hum from Blaine, he added, "Besides, I don't think this will be the last award ceremony held in Superman's honor anyway."

Blaine smiled weakly. "You really think so?"

"I know so," Kurt told him, every fiber of his being sincere. "Now come on, you look tired. You need to eat and refuel for part two of celebrating."

Blaine's tired smile quickly morphed into a leering grin as he reached around and took a handful of Kurt's ass, squeezing it appreciatively. "I wonder what that will entail?"

It was a struggle for Kurt to keep himself from dragging Blaine straight into the bedroom whenever his boyfriend's voice dropped into that gravelly, aroused register, but his inner-chef miraculously prevailed. He took Blaine's hand and led him over to the table. "Eat and you'll find out."

"Whatever you say, Mr. Hummel," Blaine acquiesced, pulling out the chair for his lover, unable to ignore how carefully Kurt lowered himself into it. The hero didn't feel like starting an argument at the moment, however, so he let it slide.

Dinner passed by uneventfully. The men chatted about their days, Kurt told Blaine his thoughts on Marc Jacob's new collection, Blaine told Kurt about the bomb scare he had just came from, and they both started developing a game plan for covering Superman's key to the city ceremony.

"So, regarding the Superman interview, do you want me to actually interview you or do you just want to write something yourself? But wait, do you think we should do it at the event? I'm sure Sue wants to attract as much attention to _The Planet_ as possible so…" Kurt trailed off once he noticed that Blaine wasn't responding and his concentration was trained to the TV where the news was playing lowly. Kurt sighed. "Go."

Blaine was jerked back into the conversation by his boyfriend's command. "No, it's okay. I think they can probably handle it on their own."

The reporter rolled his eyes. "Blaine, it's fine, we're done with dinner anyway. Go save the day and then we'll move on to Celebration: Part Two when you get back."

The hero was standing over Kurt's chair in a blink of an eye. He wore an earnest look of appreciation on his face as looked down at Kurt. "You're seriously the best boyfriend ever, do you know that?"

"I may have heard a couple of rumors to the effect," he teased. Blaine leaned down and swept Kurt into a breathtaking liplock. "Okay, now you seriously have to go, because the sooner you get back, the sooner you can ravish me," the reporter panted once Blaine had finally released his mouth.

"I don't know what you have planned Kurt, but despite your best efforts at camouflage, I saw you limping today, baby. We have to take it easy tonight, okay?"

Kurt rolled his eyes once again while muttering "buzzkill" under his breath. Blaine chuckled at the insult.

"Be back in a bit, babe," Blaine promised him. He pecked Kurt on the cheek and was gone an instant later.

_Stupid, observant boyfriend, _Kurt huffed to himself as he began to gather up the dirty plates and bring them over the kitchen. _Who does he think he is? Who gave him the power to determine every aspect of our sex life? Okay, I know he's just being considerate and careful, but don't I get a say in this? It is _my ass _after all, I think it's only fair if I get to determine if I'm too sore for more sex. It's not my fault he's just so fucking sexy that it's impossible to resist him—_

Kurt stopped mid-scrub, his sponge-filled hand halting over the plate he was cleaning as a brilliant, devious idea entered his mind. The reporter couldn't help but let a wicked smirk twist the corners of his lips upwards as a sinfully sexy plan formed in his mind. Clearly Blaine didn't find Kurt as irresistible as he found Blaine, so that meant he would just have to level the playing field a little bit…

0-0-0

Blaine forced himself to fly faster, the North American continent becoming even more of a blur below him as his speed increased. Of course just when he and Kurt were getting intimate, the Hoover Dam had to have a leak that only Superman could patch up.

The hero pushed the selfish thoughts from his head as he continued to soar toward Metropolis, the city lights becoming only a haze of brightness underneath him. Blaine hesitated for a moment to check the clock in Times Square, he had only been gone about an hour, and zipped back to Kurt's apartment downtown.

"Kurt!" Blaine called as he glided through the balcony doors. "I'm back!" He paused to take off his boots. "Where are you, sweetie?"

"In here!" Kurt called in reply. Blaine's heightened sense of hearing immediately located his boyfriend in the bathroom, the way his high, clear voice was unmistakably bouncing off the cream tile that the room was paneled in.

_Oh no, _Blaine internally fretted. _Has Kurt already begun his moisturizing routine? Because if he's already begun his moisturizing routine, than there's a very good chance I'm not getting any tonight. Jeez, was he really that upset about me telling him to take it easy?_

Blaine loved sex. And no, not in the usual way that every guy loved sex. Well, that was a part of it. But what no one would understand, is how much Blaine loved how close it made him feel to other people. After twenty-two years of metaphorical loneliness in Westerville and another eight of actual isolation in the artic, being able to connect with someone so intimately was almost a very highly lauded privilege to Blaine. And then to be able to connect with _Kurt_ was almost too much to bear. Nothing made him feel more alive than when he was making love to Kurt, not even the first time he flew back during his senior year of high school.

Nevertheless, Blaine was expecting to find his boyfriend pajama-clad and applying god-knows-what-plant extract to his face when he super-speeded into the bathroom. Therefore, the sight of Kurt wet, naked, and lounging in a luxurious bubble bath knocked the breath out of the hero.

"Oh, hello dear," Kurt greeted his gawking boyfriend in a nonchalant, teasing tone. "You took longer than I expected, I was starting to get worried."

Blaine gurgled in response.

"Sorry, I didn't quite catch that," Kurt taunted as he lathered a loofah and began to rub it over his skin sensually.

"I, um…" The hero struggled to formulate coherent thoughts, his cock was hardening against the tight spandex of his pants rapidly. "…what are you doing?"

"I'm taking your advice," Kurt informed him as-a-matter-of-factly. "You said I should take things easy, and I have been feeling rather sore today, so I thought what better way to relax than a _nice, hot bath_?"

Blaine was momentarily distracted from responding by Kurt lifting one of his legs almost perpendicular to the ground to lather it up. He eyed the pale expanse of skin and blatant show of flexibility hungrily. "You're evil you know that right?"

"Hmm, I thought I was 'seriously the best boyfriend ever'," Kurt mused deviously as he switched legs. Blaine whimpered. "Would I be less evil if I invited you to join me?"

There was a flash of movement and then Blaine was towering over the tub naked. Kurt couldn't help but bite his lip at the sight.

"Get behind me," he ordered breathlessly.

Blaine complied, a smirk playing on his lips, as he climbed into the bathtub and settled himself behind his boyfriend. He wasted no time procuring the loofah from Kurt's hands to wash him himself and began to plant kisses along the back of his neck as well as the tops of his shoulders.

Kurt couldn't repress the groan Blaine's ministrations had elicited. "So what was the big emergency?"

"A part of the Hoover Dam gave out," Blaine explained as he dragged his hand little by little down his lover's abdomen. Kurt gasped and grinded back in response. "I had to patch it up."

"Mmm," Kurt hummed contentedly as the hero continued his teasing strokes with the sponge.

"You're so beautiful babe, do you know that?" Blaine murmured into Kurt's shoulder. "God, your _skin_, it's all so smooth and flawless."

Kurt turned his head to capture Blaine's lips in a heated kiss. In no time their tongues were plundering each other's mouths, and Kurt began to steadily grind back onto the hardness pressing into his lower back insistently. Blaine let a low groan of his own as their tongues continued to twine.

"_Fuck me, Blaine_," Kurt panted against Blaine's parted lips.

The hero hesitated, pulling away slightly. "Kurt," he began cautiously.

Kurt sighed and maneuvered around in the tub so he was kneeling between his boyfriend's spread legs, face-to-face with Blaine, a little bit of water sloshing over the edge of the tub from the movement.

"Okay, listen here Blaine Anderson. You may be my boyfriend and a superhero, but you are not the boss of me. I know you are just being considerate, but I promise you, I am _fine_," Kurt urged before amending himself. "Well, _I would_ be better if I were full of your cock."

Blaine gulped. "Are you sure?" Kurt responded by wrapping a hand around Blaine's erection and squeezing. The hero squirmed but pressed on, his voice conspicuously higher than usual. "Because I could still get you off, we could get in some frottage or I could su—" another more forceful squeeze "—_ah_! Okay, okay! Allow me to commend you on your 'nonverbal communication' skills."

Kurt relented and climbed into Blaine's lap. "I'm sorry, it's just…you know I trust you, Blaine. And I don't have super strength so I don't know what it's like, but sometimes I feel that you don't trust yourself with me. I may not be from Krypton, but believe it or not, I'm not one of those porcelain dolls I look so much like."

Blaine laughed softly and let his hands slide from Kurt's hips to his ass. "But just so we can be clear, you want to have penetrative sex tonight?"

Kurt slapped the Kryptonian on the chest playfully. "Very funny."

Blaine flashed him an impish grin before the world momentarily began a blur and Kurt found himself spread out on the bed, the hero hovering over him. "Hi."

"Hi," Kurt echoed.

Blaine lowered himself slowly, allowing their lips to drift together and their groins to meet and begin a leisurely grind, the slide of their bodies aided by the moisture from the bath. Eventually, Blaine's hand found Kurt's cock and began to pump firmly.

"_Blaine_," the reporter gasped in between kisses. "Don't make me wait any longer, I _need_ you."

The hero grunted in comprehension and broke away so he could fetch the necessary supplies. However, once Blaine had gotten the condom and lube, he didn't resume his horizontal position with Kurt, instead he chose to sit back on his heels, a nervous expression on his features.

Kurt lifted his head up to regard him from his supine position on the bed. "Yes?"

"I um…have a request," he informed Kurt, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

The reporter smirked and answered in a more suggestive tone. "_Yes?_"

"Would you get on your hands and knees for me?"

"Of course," Kurt replied, sitting up to shift his position. He paused before turning over to press a kiss to Blaine's lips and promise him, "I would do _anything_ for you, baby."

Once Kurt had gotten into position, Blaine ran his hands over the globes of the other man's ass reverently.

"Enjoying the view?" Kurt called over his shoulder.

"Mmm, yeah," Blaine guaranteed him as he gripped his cheeks and pulled them apart. "You look so sexy presenting yourself to me."

As if Blaine talking dirty wasn't sexy enough, Kurt soon felt the unmistakable wet swipe of the Kryptonian's tongue lick the length of his cleft moments later, his arms threatening to give out from the contact.

"_Nnngh, Blaine_," Kurt moaned.

"Don't worry babe, I'm just getting started."

Kurt couldn't help but moan again at Blaine's promise on account of how his voice had slipped into that sexy, low, gravelly range that he loved so much and if Blaine's skills with his tongue during blowjobs were any indication, Kurt was in for a treat. The hero traced his rim with the tip of his tongue a few times before breaching Kurt's entrance ever so slowly. Kurt's eyes closed, his hands fisted in the sheets below, and his toes curled as Blaine thrust his tongue in and out of his lover's heat at painfully unhurried pace. After a slew of pleas and whining on Kurt's part, Blaine finally replaced his tongue with a slick finger, and proceeded to stretch the reporter methodically.

Blaine was working four fingers into Kurt before he gave into the bossy bottom stereotype he seemed to have been conforming to the entire night, but too painfully aroused to care, as he demanded, "Come _on_, Blaine! Just _fuck me_ already!"

The hero chuckled darkly as he leaned over Kurt's back, his member brushing between his cheeks, as Blaine whispered in his ear, "I love it when you beg."

Kurt's arms wobbled once more. "And you say I'm the evil one."

Another low laugh rumbled from Blaine's chest and leaned back. A moment later his cock, condom on and lubed up, was lined up with Kurt's ass.

"_Blaine_—"

"Tell me how much you want my cock, baby," the hero ordered him.

Kurt struggled to support his weight as his eyes rolled back in his head as he head swam from all the arousal. "Blaine, _please_ can I have your cock? It's so big and thick and it fills me up. I know you've been worried about me being sore and limping but what you don't understand is _I like it_, Blaine. _I like_ being reminded of you and how well you fuck me when I take a step or go to sit down. You're like the perfect lover, Blaine, and I like having a physical reminder of how lucky I am to have you."

Kurt felt a gentle press of lips on his back. "I'm lucky to have you too," he heard Blaine tell him from behind, his voice no longer rough and authoritative, but kind and tender. "I love you."

The reporter was about to return the sentiment, yet Blaine had decided to push in at that moment, therefore Kurt's declaration of love morphed into a high-pitched keen as the Kryptonian eased his cock inside of him. "You okay?"

"_Yes_," he replied, his voice no more than breathy exhalation.

"Good," Blaine murmured, stroking his hand along Kurt's side before he pulled back so only the large, swollen head of his manhood was holding Kurt open before thrusting in again.

Another loud moan escaped Kurt's lips. Usually he would be slightly embarrassed by his increased vocalness during their lovemaking, but Blaine had nailed his prostate _dead on _and unlike the hero behind him, he was only human.

Blaine set a steady pace, dragging his cock in and out of Kurt with measured strokes, each one hitting that special bundle of nerves every time. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Kurt knew that should be impossible, and also that he would probably be receiving complaints from his neighbors due to the loud and reckless volume he was encouraging Blaine with. But the reporter was much too drunk on the sensation of Blaine's cock filling him over and over again, sending jolts of pleasure coursing throughout his body with every thrust to care at the moment.

"You like that, baby?" Blaine inquired with another perfectly aimed shove of his hips.

Kurt could only reply with a drawn out moan. He could feel his orgasm building side of him rapidly, threatening to erupt soon. He had been hard for so long and with all the stimulation Blaine was lavishing on his prostate, Kurt wouldn't be surprised if he came only from his lover's cock.

"I'm going to kick it up a notch, beautiful," he told him. "Do you think you can handle that, love?"

"Unngh, _fuck yes_."

Blaine transitioned from merely thrusting to pistoning his cock in and out of Kurt, grunting with exertion as he did so. Whether it was from exertion to thrust harder or struggling to keep his movements at human pace and strength, Kurt wasn't sure, although he assumed the latter. Yet all semblances of coherent thought were obliterated from Kurt's mind two thrusts later when the fire of his orgasm consumed his body, the hot liquid pleasure scorching Kurt from the inside out as he exploded onto the sheets below him. Kurt was too blissed out to recognize if Blaine had achieved his climax as well, but from the low groan and the release of his hips, now with five finger-shaped bruises on each side, onto the bed, he was pretty confident his boyfriend hadn't had much trouble getting off either.

An immeasurable amount of time passed as Kurt tried to regain his senses. Blaine, on the other hand, had lain down next to his prone figure on his bed, tracing his pointer finger along the dip in his spine as he waited.

"Looks like you're going to need another shower," he mused quietly.

"How do you do that?"

"Do what?" Blaine asked, genuinely puzzled by Kurt's question.

"How did you manage to hit my prostate _every single time_?" he clarified.

"X-ray vision, baby. It's good for more than just seeing through walls," Blaine answered back rather smugly.

Kurt gaped. Blaine had actually looked _inside of him_ while they were having sex? Wouldn't that be gross? He didn't even know that Blaine _could do that_. Then again, Blaine had never specified any limitations of his x-ray vision, but still, it just seemed kind of weird that his boyfriend would put his ability to use in such a way.

"Um, Kurt?" the Kryptonian's voice interrupted his thoughts. Kurt blinked and made eye contact with Blaine, who looked visibly concerned. "I'm sorry if I freaked you out…hey, forget about the x-ray vision thing. I'm really good at sex, that's how I was able to hit your prostate every time…yeah."

Kurt burst into laughter. The worry on Blaine's face increased ten-fold.

"And now you're laughing hysterically, which is actually making me more anxious than when you were all quiet and pensive. Okay, I'm sorry I used my x-ray vision, just please don't break up with me—"

"Blaine!" Kurt exclaimed, kissing him to show that he had no intention of breaking up. "It's fine. More than fine actually, I think the last time I came so hard when was you jerked me off for the first time. I was just surprised that's all."

"So you laugh when you're surprised?" Blaine questioned, still not completely assuaged.

"No, no. I was laughing because I love how you can go from all sexy and dominating to sweet and unassuming in literally a blink of an eye," he explained.

Blaine lips twisted into a small, bashful grin. "One of the side effects of living a double life, I guess."

Kurt kissed him once again. "I suppose."

"So you're okay with it?"

"_Blaine_—"

"I'm just making sure!" he claimed in his defense. "I know being in a relationship with me is more complicated than it would be with a normal guy—"

"Blaine," Kurt cut him off, taking Blaine's face in his hands. "Don't do that. None of us are normal. You're just not normal in a different way than most of us and there's _nothing_ wrong with that."

A silence permeated the bedroom as the two men exchanged a meaningful gaze, Kurt trying to convince Blaine with his eyes rather than his words. The Kryptonian spoke first, his voice quiet but sincere. "I know I've said it before, but you seriously are the best boyfriend ever."

"Thank you," Kurt replied. "Now I'm going to need you to help me into the shower and change the sheets, because my sexy-hot superhero boyfriend undid all the cleansing effects of my bath when he made me come all over the sheets from only his cock."

Blaine groaned as he rose from the bed and padded toward the bathroom. "Okay, I'm just going to remind you once, you're too sensitive and I have a thirty-second recovery time. Watch that deliciously filthy mouth of yours."

Kurt bit his lip as he smirked mischievously. "Love you, honey."

"Love you too, evil one."

0-0-0

"Well," Dave stormed into the room with determination, his voice echoing the various steel appliances in the lab. "Who the hell are they?"

Dr. Masuda, a scrawny Asian man with large glasses, shuffled over to him amongst the frenzy of researchers and scientists crowding the space. "Mr. Luthor, if you would direct your attention to the screen above," Dave did so and looked over at the large screen above the several control panels along the northern wall. "Our face recognition technology has identified the man in the wheelchair as Arthur Abrams, and the other man with him as Kurt Hummel."

_Kurt Hummel, so that was his name. _Earlier that afternoon when he had heard that two reporters had been spotted snooping around on of the test sites, Dave had been more than ready to murder the meddling bastards. But that had been before he had received the photos from the site, and although Dave fancied himself ruthless, even he couldn't bring himself to off a guy in a wheelchair. That and the man with him was hands down the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Tall, but not too tall, slim but with a perfect, round, full, undoubtedly tight ass (Dave had paid the photographer an extra hundred grand simply because he had gotten shots of his back), and otherworldly features. Seriously, the man looked like some sort of sexy sprite that had walked straight out of Lord of the Rings or some other nerdy fantasy novel series that Dave most definitely did not read in junior high.

The man, Kurt Hummel, was perfection. Dave had almost popped a boner in the middle of the boardroom during a meeting with LuthorCorp's trustees when he had been shown the pictures. After the meeting, he had excused himself to the executive bathroom to better "study" the incriminating photos. The CEO had always prided himself on his self-control, if anyone had ever suggested that Dave Luthor was gay to one of his peers, they would regard the notion with a bout of dismissive laughter. Dave never flirted with men, he was meticulous when it came to hiring prostitutes, hell, he was even pretty good about resisting the urge to check out guys in public. But there something about this Kurt that made Dave want dress in head to toe rainbow and plow his ass into next Tuesday for the world to see. And even though Dave knew that it should infuriate him, that he should hate the little twink for threatening his carefully constructed mask of heterosexuality, the prospect of possibly outing himself excited Dave that much more.

Needless to say, the original plan of murder had been scrapped. Now Dave would take care of the cripple in the most ethical way possible, and Kurt…Dave was going to make Kurt his.

"Mr. Luthor?"

Dave blinked out of his own thoughts. "Right. Yes, well what else?"

Dr. Masuda eyed the billionaire suspiciously for a moment before continuing. "We've compiled profiles of their personal information—addresses, contact information, legal records…"

"So these include their numbers at _The Daily_ _Planet_?" inquired Dave as he perused the files. They had included pictures. _Good. _

"Unfortunately, no," Dr. Masuda informed him.

"No?" _And he was paying this geek two point five million a year because…?_

"_The Planet _uses pen names for all their staff and they keep their real identities behind a firewall not even we could break," the scientist explained. "Regrettably, the press passes the two were wearing didn't have any form of individual identification on them."

Dave huffed in frustration.

"If you don't mind me asking Mr. Luthor," Dr. Masuda said. "We have their home addresses and personal cell phones listed in the files, why do you want their workplace information?"

The billionaire shot him a glare. "That's none of your business, Masuda. Get back to the Superman case."

The man hurried away instantly. Dave smirked to himself, answering the doctor's question in his head. _It's all part of the plan…_

**A/N: Okay, so for clarification's sake, Dave and Kurt have never met. Kurt, Tina, Mercedes, Finn, and Quinn all went to high school together at McKinley, Blaine and the Warblers all went to Dalton, and Dave and Santana went to…some other high school in Ohio. And so did Artie. Oh and the dancer he's dating? Not sure if I want to be Brittany yet, I'm contemplating other uses for her so yeah, stay tuned. But as for everyone else? Hold on tight kiddies, because shit is about to go down. **

**Again, I wanted to thank y'all for hanging in there with me the past few months through all the school work and lack of motivation to write, I seriously would go and read all of your reviews to give me inspiration to write whenever I didn't feel in the mood. Thus, I would greatly appreciate more of them so I can crank out the next chapter. Oh, and THREE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY reviews? Mind-blowing. **

**So, I'm planning on updating my other Klaine fics **_**You're a God **_**and **_**I Can Make Your Wish Come True **_**(go check it out! It's Klaine meets I Dream of Jeannie, Blaine's Major Nelson and Kurt''s Jeannie, since I think it's high-time Kurt got some of the magical powers in my AU's) before updating this one again since those updates are both partially written, but I've said it before and I'll say it again, reviews are like writing Adderall, and they'll help me get all my shit done and update sooner! **__

**Wow, that's an obnoxiously long A/N. Sorry guys, it's been a while. **

**Hearts and Stars,**

**youngandobsessed**


	22. Chapter 22 Preview

**A/N: Okay, I am SO SORRY for not updating for over 2 months! The holidays turned out to be busier than I planned and then there's school and my other fic and again, I'm sorry. I'm about halfway through this chapter and it should be done within the next two weeks, but I thought I'd y'all a little preview for being so patient!**

**Oh, and a quick WARNING: There's about to be some unrequited Kurtofsky smut all up in here, so if the squicks you, scroll past the **_**italics. **_

Chapter 22

_The room would be dark, lit only by blacklight, giving the space a peculiar, mysterious sort of glow to it, as if anything could happen within the strange brand of darkness. He would be sitting on a sprawling black leather couch, the furniture would need to be comfortable since he would be planning to spend quite a bit of time (and money) there. In front of him would be the pole. And on the pole would be the dancer. He would be dressed in some sort of get-up that consisted of nothing but deep, forest green leaves, creating a stark contrast against his porcelain skin as they trailed from a pale shoulder across his flawless, toned abdomen where it would meet a practically microscopic skirt of the same material that spanned his slim hips, a skirt that would just barely cover his manhood and that perfectly round ass. And he would be covered in glitter, silver body glitter that would shimmer ever-so-slightly when the light caught him just so. _

_He would watch him twirl around the pole effortlessly, and wrap those long, lithe legs around the metal rod with unbelievable ease, his body slowly and sensually undulating all the while, fully aware of just how much delicious torture he was inflicting on his audience. The dancer would draw out his torment until he could tell his spectator was beside himself with desire, and only then would he flounce off of the small platform that housed the pole, his bare, pretty feet carrying him the short distance to where his viewer was seated. _

_Then he would straddle him, not allowing their groins to meet just yet, and spend long, tortuous moments gyrating his pelvis above, not to mention dangerously close to, his audience's lap. His movements would be perfectly in sync with the thumping of the bass from the club's speakers. Finally,_ fucking finally, _he would let his body sink down, lowering the tight flesh of his ass to come into contact with his crotch, moaning instantly at the feel of the prominent bulge there. Deciding that he was through with his teasing, he would brace his hands on the other man's shoulder and rock his cheeks back onto the clothed erection vigorously, releasing all sorts of delicious little gasps until—_

"_No me diga, please _do not tell me you are jacking off to dirty fantasies of that little twink _AGAIN_—"

"_SANTANA! WHAT THE FUCK?" _ Dave bellowed, frantically yanking his pants back up.

"—seriously, this is like the third time in the past two days!" Santana was undeterred by Dave's disgruntled response. She folded her arms over her chest and regarded him accusatorily. "What, did he use his pixie magic to put you under some curse where you have to rub one out every twelve hours?"

"Would you just SHUT UP!" The billionaire snarled. Sure, Santana had seem him naked before, he had even forced her into trying to have sex back in high school, but the Latina had just interrupted what Dave was sure was going to be a really superb orgasm. The sad thing was, he really did feel like he had fallen under some sort of spell, Kurt's spell. He couldn't get the exquisite reporter out of his head, and neither did he want to, particularly when the man made such good fantasy material. Since Dave had been shown the pictures, Kurt had starred in daydreams as a cheerleader, a flight attendant, a cowboy, a corporate secretary, a French maid, a nurse, and a schoolboy for Dave's carnal pleasures. And although he'd spent the weekend shamelessly masturbating to the thought of Kurt Hummel, no one else needed to know about it. Especially Santana, whose fondness and skill for blackmail matched his. So David decided to mask his humiliation with rage, "Who the _FUCK _do you think you are?"

"Your fiancée, _honey,_" she replied in a sickly sweet tone, thrusting her hand forward to display the 12-carat, 2.1 million dollar ring resting on her left hand. "Can we just cut the crap? Yeah I caught you with your hand down your pants _again,_ but the only reason it happened was because you demanded to see me. What's this pressing matter I was told about? Need more lube?"

"_Watch it, Santana," _he warned through gritted teeth. "I wanted to talk to you about Superman."

The Latina rolled her eyes. "Him again?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact," Dave told her. "On Saturday they're giving him the Key to the City. I want you there with Jacob."

"To do what exactly?" she prompted.

"Investigate, ask people about him, just keep an eye on him in general," the billionaire explained. "My plan is never going to work unless we learn everything we can about him."

"And what would this evil grand scheme be, Mr. Luthor?" Santana inquired, trying to disguise her voice from betraying too much interest.

He chuckled mirthlessly. "Like I'd tell you. Oh! And watch out for Hummel too. We need to observe him as well."

"I don't understand why I have to spend my precious Saturday afternoon stalking your wank material—"

"You don't? That's right, you never did go to college, did you? You chose to be a kept woman. Well Santana, if you don't do what I ask, you'll be spending the rest of your nights in The Projects. I hear they opened a new one in Washington Heights, so make sure you choose your get your gang affiliation straightened out before you—"

"Okay, okay, _boss_," Santana surrendered. "Me and Rat Boy will be there."

"I knew you'd see things my way," he sneered.

"Well, your threats are always so hard to resist!" the Latina cooed sarcastically before she started to stalk out of Dave's luxurious bedroom.

"Oh! One more thing."

Santana looked over her shoulder at Dave.

"The wedding invitations are going out this week. I don't know, I just thought you should know."

She didn't reply. Instead, Santana did her best contort her facial features back into something that looked like her habitual disinterest as she soaked in the information. Yet Santana was far from disinterested, she felt manipulated, taken advantage of, coerced, and actually _vulnerable _for fuck's sake. Santana Lopez didn't do vulnerable. She speed-walked out of the bedroom, leaving Dave to resume his dirty fantasies, not letting her façade crumble until she was in safety of her own quarters where, for the first time in God only knew how long, she cried.

0-0-0

"Gay. Other Gay," Sue called out striding past their desks and dropping two plastic cards onto them. "Those are your press passes for Saturday. Lose them and I will bend you over my desk and spank your asses cherry red for the entire newsroom to see. Unless you derive sexual pleasure from that, in which case, I'll have to come up with some other form of punishment."

"Thanks, Sue," Kurt replied, completely unfazed as he continued clacking away on his keyboard, not even sparing a look at his editor.

Blaine however, watched Sue disappear into her office with his signature troubled puppy look. "How has no one ever filed a workplace harassment case against her?"

Kurt looked up at his boyfriend amusedly. "Because she's damn good at what she does and can get away with it. _The Daily Planet _is an institution under her editorship. She's like the Anna Wintour of newspapers."

"Well at least Anna Wintour dresses better. And would _never _sport that haircut," scoffed Blaine.

"Blaine," Kurt began seriously. "You say this to me as if I'm not gay."

The hero chuckled. "Forgive me."

Kurt joined in on the giggling too until their eyes met in a very not-workplace-appropriate-especially-since-we-don't-want-people-to-know-we're-dating kind of way. Both men instantly snapped out of it, quickly refocusing on their individual work at hand.

An hour or so had passed when Blaine caught Kurt staring longingly at Tina and Mercedes leaving the newsroom for their daily smoking and gossip session.

"I take it Mercedes still won't talk to you?"

"Hm?" Kurt replied, shaking himself out of his daze. "Oh, yeah. She's still stubborn as ever."

"Sorry," Blaine muttered. He couldn't help but feel guilty in the situation.

"Don't," Kurt assured him, his eyes filled with genuine sincerity. "She hasn't been a very good lately anyway."

"I guess," Blaine shrugged, adjusting his glasses self-consciously. "Kurt, I—"

He was interrupted by the loud, jarring ring of Kurt's office phone. The fair-skinned man looked at the phone with interest, yet quickly glanced at Blaine, who gestured it was okay, before Kurt answered.

"Louis Lane, _The Daily Planet_."

Blaine tried to not to eavesdrop on Kurt's conversation, striving to concentrate on his own story that was due at the end of the afternoon. He'd managed to ignore Kurt for a few minutes, yet a sudden exclamation from his boyfriend and flurry of frantic movement captured Blaine's attention, and the temptation to use his super-hearing got the best of him.

"—_at 4:37 A.M. It was a big one too."_

"And you're sure it wasn't a routine government test or anything?" Kurt asked.

"_Well, I mean, you'd probably have to call Los Alamos lab to get confirmation, but I doubt they'd even give it to ya._ _However, I know I'm not no map, but the explosion happened a ways west of where Los Alamos usually tests._"

"I see. Well thank you so much for this tip, Willy. I'll have _The Planet's _cashier will be in touch regarding your reimbursement," Kurt told the man, obviously struggling to maintain a professional tone and keep his excitement contained.

"_Pleasure doing business with ya, Lou." _

As soon as Kurt hung up, he let out an excited squeal before he hollered "SUE!" and took off for her office. Blaine couldn't stop himself from listening in again.

"—_get to New Mexico ASAP!" _he heard Kurt insist.

"_Princess, I understand that you've got your man-thong in a twist—" _Now there was a pretty picture. Blaine squeezed his eyes shut to try to rid the image of his boyfriend in a thong from his mind's eye, fully aware that getting an (well, technically _another_) erection at work was so not what he needed right now. He re-focused on the conversation at hand. " _—but you seriously can't expect me to book you on the next flight to __Albuquerque with the Superman ceremony tomorrow."_

_Kurt didn't say anything for a few moments. _  
>Shame crashed over Blaine, once again, he was fucking something up for Kurt. First it was his friendships, and now he was preventing his boyfriend from pursuing work opportunities.<p>

"_What—what if I l left right now and got back before it started? The ceremony doesn't begin until two anyway and—"_

"_Kurt, be reasonable," _Sue ordered him. The reporter huffed indignantly at the demand. " _It's a six hour flight from here to New Mexico, and besides, I _need _you for the ceremony tomorrow. It's not my fault you're the only person in Metropolis Superman will speak to and seeing as I want a better scoop on him than anyone else can get tomorrow, there's no way you're leaving the city, much less the Eastern Seaboard tonight."_

"_But, Sue—"_

"_No buts, Hummel. You don't even know if these explosions are related—"_

"_Well, that's the reason why I'd go—"_

"_And let's be honest, the whole piece has fizzled out anyway. Superman is what sells newspapers, not half baked theories on a couple explosions. That's my final word."_

A few moments later, Kurt re-emerged from Sue's office, stomping back to his desk.

"I'm sorry," Blaine began meekly once his boyfriend had sat down again. "I can cover for you tomorr—"

"Don't be ridiculous, Blaine," Kurt snapped, although he sounded more defeated than malicious.  
>"New Mexico was a stupid idea anyway. Plus, there's no way even <em>you<em> could cover the ceremony and be a part of it at the same time."

"That's not true, I could—"

"_Blaine_," the reporter cut him off. "It's fine, let's drop it okay? Besides, I want to be there to support you."

"Okay," he agreed quietly. Kurt was still visibly upset however, so Blaine opened up Skype and typed a quick message.

Kurt heard the little 'pop' on his computer and checked its source.

**BAnderson: **I love you.

He replied instantaneously.

**KurtHummel: **I love you too.

They shared another one of those not-appropriate-for-work glances with each other until Kurt broke their gaze and wrote another message.

**KurtHummel: **Come find me in ten minutes.

Kurt didn't wait for a reply from his boyfriend, standing up and sashaying out of the newsroom as Blaine watched after him, slightly staggered. _That's Kurt for you, always zigging when I think he'll zag. _He chuckled to himself and with a fond roll of his eyes, finished his article on an outbreak of rabid squirrels in West Virginia before leaving his desk to find Kurt.

0-0-0

"A Janitor's Closet, Kurt? Really?" Blaine teased as he joined Kurt in the dark, cramped space. "That's a bit stereotypical don't you think?

"Sorry," he giggled as he draped his arms around Blaine and pulled the hero flush with his body. "I just really needed to kiss you."

"Don't apologize," Blaine breathed as their faces drifted closer and closer together. "_Never _apologize for that."

Their mouths found each other in a gentle kiss, their lips moving languidly. Blaine gripped Kurt's hips as he slipped his tongue into the other's mouth. Kurt groaned happily and began sucking on the hero's tongue, eliciting a happy groan from Blaine as well. He was just about to pull back to pepper Blaine's jaw with kisses when there was a sudden burst of brightness.

Kurt remained disoriented for a few moments, yet Blaine was off of him in a blink of an eye.

"See,Kurt, I _told _you they used Lysol and not Scrubbing Bubbles!" Blaine said in an overly cheerful tone along with some very fake, slightly maniacal laughter.

"Wha—" But then he noticed the elderly gentlemen standing in the doorway looking awestruck that they were two men in his supply closet. "Oh!" He exclaimed, catching on the charade. "Well, kudos to you! I—uh—" Kurt turned to the Janitor. "We're…um…doing a story on cleaning products and their quality and stuff…"

The Janitor merely grunted.

"We'll just be going now," Blaine chirped as he ushered Kurt out of the closet and past the Janitor. "Have a nice day!"

Once they had escaped to the stairwell, both men nearly collapsed laughing, even though Blaine couldn't fight a niggling feeling that he and Kurt were going to have to be a lot more careful now on…

**A/N: Okay, so it's kind of lame, but I promise things are going to heat up with the ceremony and Karofsky! Thank you all for sticking with me, and I promise, THIS STORY WILL NEVER BE ABANDONED! The full chapter should be up soon! **

**Hearts and Stars,**

**youngandobsessed**


	23. Chapter 22 Full

**A/N: Okay, so it has been far too long since I have posted a full chapter! This was supposed to be longer and smuttier but this thing took on a life of its own and grew into almost 9,000 words, so yeah. At least it's long! **

**Oh and let me WARN again: There's about to be some unrequited Kurtofsky smut all up in here, so if the squicks you, scroll past the **_**italics.**_

Chapter 22

_The room would be dark, lit only by blacklight, giving the space a peculiar, mysterious sort of glow to it, as if anything could happen within the strange brand of darkness. He would be sitting on a sprawling black leather couch, the furniture would need to be comfortable since he would be planning to spend quite a bit of time (and money) there. In front of him would be the pole. And on the pole would be the dancer. He would be dressed in some sort of get-up that consisted of nothing but deep, forest green leaves, creating a stark contrast against his porcelain skin as they trailed from a pale shoulder across his flawless, toned abdomen where it would meet a practically microscopic skirt of the same material that spanned his slim hips, a skirt that would just barely cover his manhood and that perfectly round ass. And he would be covered in glitter, silver body glitter that would shimmer ever-so-slightly when the light caught him just so. _

_He would watch him twirl around the pole effortlessly, wrap those long, lithe legs around the metal rod with unbelievable ease, his body slowly and sensually undulating all the while, fully aware of just how much delicious torture he was inflicting on his audience. The dancer would draw out his torment until he could tell his spectator was beside himself with desire, and only then would he flounce off of the small platform that housed the pole, his bare, pretty feet carrying him the short distance to where his viewer was seated. _

_Then he would straddle him, not allowing their groins to meet just yet, and spend long, tortuous moments gyrating his pelvis above, not to mention dangerously close to, his audience's lap. His movements would be perfectly in sync with the thumping of the bass from the club's speakers. Finally,_ fucking finally, _he would let his body sink down, lowering the tight flesh of his ass to come into contact with his crotch, moaning instantly at the feel of the prominent bulge there. Deciding that he was through with his teasing, he would brace his hands on the other man's shoulder and rock his cheeks back onto the clothed erection vigorously, releasing all sorts of delicious little gasps until—_

"_No me diga, please _do not tell me you are jacking off to dirty fantasies of that little twink _AGAIN_—"

"_SANTANA! WHAT THE FUCK?" _ Dave bellowed, frantically yanking his pants back up.

"—seriously, this is like the third time in the past two days!" Santana was undeterred by Dave's disgruntled response. She folded her arms over her chest and regarded him accusatorily. "What, did he use his pixie magic to put you under some curse where you have to rub one out every twelve hours?"

"Would you just SHUT UP!" The billionaire snarled. Sure, Santana had seem him naked before, he had even forced her into trying to have sex back in high school, but the Latina had just interrupted what Dave was sure was going to be a really superb orgasm. The sad thing was, he really did feel like he had fallen under some sort of spell, Kurt's spell. He couldn't get the exquisite reporter out of his head, and neither did he want to, particularly when the man made such good fantasy material. Since Dave had been shown the pictures, Kurt had starred in daydreams as a cheerleader, a flight attendant, a corporate secretary, a French maid, and a schoolboy for Dave's carnal pleasures. And although he'd spent the weekend shamelessly masturbating to the thought of Kurt Hummel, no one else needed to know about it. Especially Santana, whose fondness and skill for blackmail matched his. So David decided to mask his humiliation with rage, "Who the _FUCK _do you think you are?"

"Your fiancée, _honey,_" she replied in a sickly sweet tone, thrusting her hand forward to display the 12 carat, 2.1 million dollar ring resting on her left hand. "Can we just cut the crap? Yeah I caught you with your hand down your pants _again,_ but the only reason it happened was because you demanded to see me. What's this pressing matter I was told about? Need more lube?"

"_Watch it, Santana," _he warned through gritted teeth. "I wanted to talk to you about Superman."

The Latina rolled her eyes. "Him again?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact," Dave told her. "On Saturday they're giving him the Key to the City. I want you there with Jacob."

"To do what exactly?" she prompted.

"Investigate, ask people about him, just keep an eye on him in general," the billionaire explained. "My plan is never going to work unless we learn everything we can about him."

"And what would this evil grand scheme be, Mr. Luthor?" Santana inquired, trying to disguise her voice from betraying too much interest.

He chuckled mirthlessly. "Like I'd tell you. Oh! And watch out for Hummel too. We need to observe him as well."

"I don't understand why I have to spend my precious Saturday afternoon stalking your wank material—"

"You don't? That's right, you never did go to college, did you? You chose to be a kept woman. Well Santana, if you don't do what I ask, you'll be spending the rest of your night in The Projects. I hear they opened a new one in Washington Heights, so make sure you choose your get your gang affiliation straightened out before you—"

"Okay, okay, _boss_," Santana surrendered. "Me and Rat Boy will be there."

"I knew you'd see things my way," he sneered.

"Well, your threats are hard to resist!" the Latina cooed sarcastically before she started to stalk out of Dave's luxurious bedroom.

"Oh! One more thing."

Santana looked over her shoulder at Dave.

"The wedding invitations are going out this week. I don't know, I just thought you should know."

She didn't reply. Instead, Santana did her best contort her facial features back into something that looked like habitual disinterest as she soaked in the information. Yet Santana was far from disinterested, she felt manipulated, taken advantage of, coerced, and actually _vulnerable _for fuck's sake. Santana Lopez didn't do vulnerable. She speed-walked out of the bedroom, leaving Dave to resume his dirty fantasies, not letting her façade crumble until she was in safety of her own quarters where, for the first time in God only knew how long, she cried.

0-0-0

"Gay. Other Gay," Sue called out striding past their desks and dropping two plastic cards onto them. "Those are your press passes for Saturday. Lose them and I will bend you over my desk and spank your asses cherry red for the entire newsroom to see. Unless you derive sexual pleasure from that, in which case, I'll have to come up with some other form of punishment."

"Thanks, Sue," Kurt replied, completely unfazed as he continued clacking away on his keyboard, not even sparing a look at his editor.

Blaine however, watched Sue disappear into her office with his signature troubled puppy look. "How has no one ever filed a workplace harassment case against her?"

Kurt looked up at his boyfriend amusedly. "Because she's damn good at what she does and can get away with it. _The Daily Planet _is an institution under her editorship. She's like the Anna Wintour of newspapers."

"Well at least Anna Wintour dresses better. And would _never _sport that haircut," scoffed Blaine.

"Blaine," Kurt began seriously. "You say this to me as if I'm not gay."

The hero chuckled. "Forgive me."

Kurt joined in on the giggling too until their eyes met in a very not-workplace-appropriate-especially-since-we-don't-want-people-to-know-we're-dating kind of way. Both men instantly snapped out of it, quickly refocusing on their individual work at hand.

An hour or so had passed when Blaine caught Kurt staring longingly at Tina and Mercedes leaving the newsroom for their daily smoking and gossip session.

"I take it Mercedes still won't talk to you?"

"Hm?" Kurt replied, shaking himself out of his daze. "Oh, yeah. She's still stubborn as ever."

"Sorry," Blaine muttered. He couldn't help but feel guilty in the situation.

"Don't," Kurt assured him, his eyes filled with genuine sincerity. "She hasn't been a very good lately anyway."

"I guess," Blaine shrugged, adjusting his glasses self-consciously. "Kurt, I—"

He was interrupted by the loud, jarring ring of Kurt's office phone. The fair-skinned man looked at the phone with interest, yet quickly glanced at Blaine, who gestured it was okay, before Kurt answered.

"Louis Lane, _The Daily Planet_."

Blaine tried to not to eavesdrop on Kurt's conversation, striving to concentrate on his own story that was due at the end of the afternoon. He'd managed to ignore Kurt for a few minutes, yet a sudden exclamation from his boyfriend and flurry of frantic movement captured Blaine's attention, and the temptation to use his super-hearing got the best of him.

"—_at 4:37 A.M. It was a big one too."_

"And you're sure it wasn't a routine government test or anything?" Kurt asked.

"_Well, I mean, you'd probably have to call Los Alamos lab to get confirmation, but I doubt they'd even give it to ya._ _However, I know I'm not no map, but the explosion happened west of where Los Alamos usually tests._"

"I see. Well thank you so much for this tip, Willy. I'll have _The Planet's _cashier will be in touch regarding your reimbursement," Kurt told the man, obviously struggling to maintain a professional tone and keep his excitement contained.

"_Pleasure doing business with ya, Lou." _

As soon as Kurt hung up, he let out an excited squeal before he hollered "SUE!" and took off for her office. Blaine couldn't stop himself from listening in again.

"—_get to New Mexico ASAP!" _he heard Kurt insist.

"_Princess, I understand that you've got your man-thong in a twist—" _Now there was a pretty picture. Blaine squeezed his eyes shut to try to rid the image of his boyfriend in a thong from his mind's eye, fully aware that getting an (technically _another_) erection at work was so not what he needed right now. He re-focused on the conversation at hand. " _—but you seriously can't expect me to book you on the next flight to __Albuquerque with the Superman ceremony tomorrow."_

_Kurt didn't say anything for a few moments. _  
>Shame crashed over Blaine, once again, he was fucking something up for Kurt. First it was his friendships, and now he was preventing his boyfriend from pursuing work opportunities.<p>

"_What—what if I l left right now and got back before it started? The ceremony doesn't begin until two anyway and—"_

"_Kurt, be reasonable," _Sue ordered him. The reporter huffed indignantly at the demand. " _It's a six hour flight from here to New Mexico, and besides, I _need _you for the ceremony tomorrow. It's not my fault you're the only person in Metropolis Superman will speak to and seeing as I want a better scoop on him than anyone else can get tomorrow, there's no way you're leaving the city, much less the Eastern Seaboard tonight."_

"_But, Sue—"_

"_No buts, Hummel. You don't even know if these explosions are related—"_

"_Well, that's the reason why I'd go—"_

"_And let's be honest, the whole piece has fizzled out anyway. Superman is what sells newspapers, not half baked theories on a couple explosions. That's my final word."_

A few moments later, Kurt re-emerged from Sue's office, stomping back to his desk.

"I'm sorry," Blaine began meekly once his boyfriend had sat down again. "I can cover for you tomorr—"

"Don't be ridiculous, Blaine," Kurt snapped, although he sounded more defeated than malicious.  
>"New Mexico was a stupid idea anyway. Plus, there's no way even <em>you<em> could cover the ceremony and be a part of it at the same time."

"That's not true, I could—"

"_Blaine_," the reporter cut him off. "It's fine, let's drop it okay? Besides, I want to be there to support you."

"Okay," he agreed quietly. Kurt was still visibly upset however, so Blaine opened up Skype and typed a quick message.

Kurt heard the little 'pop' on his computer and checked its source.

**BAnderson: **I love you.

He replied instantaneously.

**KurtHummel: **I love you too.

They shared another one of those not-appropriate-for-work glances with each other until Kurt broke their gaze and wrote another message.

**KurtHummel: **Come find me in ten minutes.

Kurt didn't wait for a reply from his boyfriend, standing up and sashaying out of the newsroom as Blaine watched after him, slightly staggered. _That's Kurt for you, always zigging when I think he'll zag. _He chuckled to himself and with a fond roll of his eyes, finished his article on an outbreak of rabid squirrels in Virginia before leaving his desk to find Kurt.

0-0-0

"A Janitor's Closet, Kurt? Really?" Blaine teased as he joined Kurt in the dark, cramped space. "That's a bit stereotypical don't you think?

"Sorry," he giggled as he draped his arms around Blaine and pulled the hero flush with his body. "I just really needed to kiss you."

"Don't apologize," Blaine breathed as their faces drifted closer and closer together. "_Never _apologize for that."

Their mouths found each other in a gentle kiss, their lips moving languidly. Blaine gripped Kurt's hips as he slipped his tongue into the other's mouth. Kurt groaned happily and began sucking on the hero's tongue, eliciting a happy groan from Blaine as well. He was just about to pull back to pepper Blaine's jaw with kisses when there was a sudden burst of brightness.

Kurt remained disoriented for a few moments, yet Blaine was off of him in a blink of an eye.

"See,Kurt, I _told _you they used Lysol and not Scrubbing Bubbles!" Blaine said in an overly cheerful tone along with some very fake, slightly maniacal laughter.

"Wha—" But then he noticed the elderly gentlemen standing in the doorway looking awestruck that they were two men in his supply closet. "Oh!" He exclaimed, catching on the charade. "Well, kudos to you! I—uh—" Kurt turned to the Janitor. "We're…um…doing a story on cleaning products and their quality and stuff…"

The Janitor merely grunted.

"We'll just be going now," Blaine chirped as he ushered Kurt out of the closet and past the Janitor. "Have a nice day!"

Once they had escaped to the stairwell, both men nearly collapsed laughing, even though Blaine couldn't fight a niggling feeling that he and Kurt were going to have to be a lot more careful now on…

0-0-0

It was a clear day, a fact Kurt was infinitely grateful for as he pushed through the already amassing crowd in Time Square into the Limited Access area. He remembered back in college when a couple of friends had talked him into spending New Year's Eve in Times Square, and it had been freezing and sleeting, not to mention absolutely miserable, the entire time. Yet instead of everyone decked out in 2003 sunglasses and hats, today the inhabitants of Times Square were all sporting Superman gear.

Kurt had never realized how much of an _icon _Blaine was. There were several varieties of Superman shirts, Superman balloons, Superman hats, Superman light-up toys, Superman buttons, Superman bobbleheads, Superman socks, Superman mugs, Superman _underwear_…Kurt didn't know how he felt about that last one, he wasn't exactly fond of the idea that people could wear his boyfriend's emblem so close to their genitals.

He looked up at the large billboard mounted above the streets advertising today's ceremony, displaying a gigantic picture of the man he loved, declaring him the "Man of Steel". It was strange, seeing Blaine being portrayed as larger than life when he'd viewed him so intimately in everyday settings. Yet Blaine was so much more than Kurt's boyfriend, he was a symbol of justice to thousands, possibly millions, of people. It was peculiar to Kurt to imagine how others must perceive him, however, his musings were cut short by his editor's voice.

"So Lady Face _does _have a thing for Superman," Sue announced smugly. "Well I hate to break it to you, Sparkles, but America's favorite hero is most definitely straight."

Kurt, unable to contain himself, let out a rather undignified snort, recalling his and Blaine's bout of steamy lovemaking last night. _If Sue only knew_…

Sue surveyed her employee critically. "Kurt Hummel, tell me you did not consume any illegal or prescription substances before coming here! How are you going to interview Superman if you're tripping on cocaine? I am disgraced—"

"Sue, _Sue_! I'm fine trust me, you can go get a breathalyzer or…a urine sample or something, but I'm completely sober," Kurt guaranteed her.

"Whatever you say, Lady McGirly," Sue retorted. "How have things been going so far?"

"Good!" Kurt answered enthusiastically. "I already interviewed the chairperson of the Time Square Alliance regarding the event, as well as a bunch of revelers just now."

"What about the Mayor?" The Editor-in-Chief demanded.

"His press agent arranged for me to speak to him before the presentation ceremony." Kurt responded, not missing a beat.

"And Superman?"

Kurt had to repress a smirk. "He'll find me, he always does."

"That's not encouraging," Sue accused him.

"I'll get you your interview, I promise," Kurt told her.

Sue rolled her eyes, yet pressed on nonetheless. "Now where's Anderson?"

"Oh, he's around here somewhere," Kurt replied breezily. "You know him, he's probably at one of the merchandise stalls, looking for a Superman bowtie or something like that."

"Well then, I really must be going" Sue announced. "Anthony Weiner requested to see me, presumably to try and seduce me."

Kurt furrowed his eyebrows and cocked his head in confusion, yet didn't say anything as Sue strode away. Blaine on the mind, he whipped out his cell and sent a text to him.

To: Blaine

I can't wait to see you. Times Square is pretty decked out.

From: Blaine

Don't say that, you're just going to make me more nervous!

Kurt chuckled to himself. Blaine may have been the Man of Steel, but it seemed even Superman got butterflies.

To: Blaine

Don't be. Everyone's going to love you no matter what. It's the speech, isn't it?

From: Blaine

It's the speech. I'm worried I'm either going to sound really lame or really arrogant, probably the former.

To: Blaine

Would it be totally corny if I told you to just speak from your heart?

From: Blaine

It would, but I appreciate it! ;-)

Kurt couldn't help but roll his eyes. Blaine and his emoticons.

To: Blaine

You just need to relax.

From: Blaine

You know what helps me relax…

To: Blaine

?

From: Blaine

What are you wearing?

To: Blaine

Absolutely not. We are not sexting so you can masturbate to take the edge off. You're meeting child cancer patients today!

From: Blaine

It was worth a shot. Your mention of kids with cancer killed any chance of a boner anyway. Some other time, then?

The reporter was about to type out a scathing reply when his phone rang. It was the Mayor's press agent notifying him that Mayor Bloomberg was ready to see him in the VIP tent. Kurt briskly began to make his way over to there while he texted Blaine.

To: Blaine

I've got to go. I'm about to interview the Mayor.

From: Blaine

Good luck! See you soon, Mr. Lane :-D

To: Blaine

You too, Superman. Love you.

From: Blaine

Love you too.

By then Kurt had reached the VIP tent. Pocketing his phone and pulling out his tape recorder, he entered the area with all the astuteness and ambition of _The Daily Planet's _top reporter.

0-0-0

Santana closed the town car door with more force than necessary as she exited the vehicle, the slam knocking Jacob back into the car's interior. The Latina didn't notice, and began to strut down the street into the milling mass of people as Jacob struggled to catch up, calling her name as he jogged after.

"Santana!" he hollered yet again. She swiveled around to face him so swiftly Jacob nearly toppled over her tall, slender frame.

"Okay, you little weasel, let's get a couple things straight here—"

"Straight? I thought you were—"

"Ugh, SHUT UP!" Santana silenced him before continuing in a lower tone. "Just because I sleep with women you'll only experience through your various porn subscriptions doesn't mean you can make any lame-ass attempts at humor. _I'm_ in charge here, you're _my_ minion, are we clear?"

Jacob responded with an audible gulp and frantic nodding of his head. The movement and its speed caused his (_absolutely intolerable_, Santana thought) Jew fro to sort of shake and flop along with his head. _Maybe I can convince Dave to make him shave it. God, he'd probably cry for days, it would be so delicious..._

Ponderings about her companion aside, the Latina got back down to business. "I don't want to be here—fuck, I don't even know what Dave thinks we can accomplish here today—but I am _not _going to let this day be ruined any further by having to spend it with you."

"Buh-but the boss said—"

"Since when did you did you think that you could interrupt my twice in a five minute period and still retain one of your testicles?" Santana demanded venomously.

All Jacob could do was produce another gulp.

"Okay, now here how things are goings to go down," she resumed. "_You_ will follow around the lady-fabulous reporter Dave can't seem to stop imagining fucking and _I _will watch out for Superman."

"Why don't I get to watch Superman?" he whined.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Santana apologized falsely, "did you _want _me to make good on the threat of neutering you? Because honestly, I'd _much rather _do that then spend the next three hours or so in a working class sandwich of tourists."

"I—uh…" Jacob spluttered, well aware that he should probably just do whatever Santana said if he valued his life and testicles, "I'll just go f-find him then…"

Santana sneered with malicious delight and folded her arms over her (artificially enhanced) chest with satisfaction and superiority. "I thought you'd see things my way. Now, run along, the Queen of the Twinks isn't going to spy on himself now, is he?"

Jacob scampered away and disappeared into the crowd, and once he was out of sight, Santana allowed her malevolent façade to drop for a moment as she exhaled in relief. With Jacob gone and too terrified of her come within a hundred foot radius of her, Santana could put her plan into action.

She knew the odds were slim and the security would be tight, but she knew she had to try.

0-0-0

The ceremony started off slowly, much to Kurt's dismay. Although the crowd erupted into an onslaught of cacophonous noise—cheers, applause, whistles—when Superman had arrived, the first hour or so was just government official after government official droning on and on about what Superman had done for the City of Metropolis and the world. Not that recognizing Blaine's achievements and accomplishments weren't important, but he could feel that the approximately one million spectators gathered there were just as anxious as he was to move on to the main event. _Finally, _Mayor Bloomberg took the podium and delivered a surprisingly heartfelt speech about the hero, and _then_ it was time. Superman rose from his seat on the stage that had been set up for the day's events, and the governor came out with a small, dark, polished wooden box. Mayor Bloomberg took the box from Governor Cuomo and presented the box to Superman, opening it so he could see the glinting gold key inside. The crowd burst into another round of arduous applause and the three men posed with the key as hundreds of cameras snapped and photographed the momentous moment. After a minute or two, it was Superman's turn to take the podium.

Before he spoke, the hero cleared his throat and let his eyes scan the massive audience. Call it wishful thinking, but Kurt could have sworn that their gazes locked for a split second before Superman began to speak.

"I would like to begin by thanking Mayor Bloomberg, Governor Cuomo, and the City Council for this great honor. Additionally, I would like to thank the Times Square Alliance for organizing this wonderful celebration today, as well as everyone today here in person or tuning in offering their support. I know the phrase is trite and clichéd, but I would not be here without your unconditional and ardent encouragement, considering that I could be seen as the ultimate outsider since I am not a citizen of this planet. However, I have been overwhelmed by this nation's acceptance, and eternally thankful for not having the Men in Black sicced on me," The crowd shared a collective chuckle, and Superman smiled slightly. "Anyway, it was your belief in me and what I could do for this country that enabled me to realize them. You see, when I was younger, I was told that I had a destiny, that I would one become America's greatest hero. Honestly, when I heard the prediction, I thought I had been mistaken." The crowd again let out a chuckle at Superman's humble remark. "I am still unsure of its accuracy, since I doubt I could ever match Americans such as George Washington, John Adams, Abraham Lincoln, or Franklin Roosevelt, but nevertheless I aspire to change this country for the better just as they did. Although I may have the ability to fly, I still believe that you don't need to be Superman to make a difference in America. Now I know that the idea of 'making a difference' is vague and nondescript concept, but that's how it should be, we all have a destiny, and it's our job to discover our purpose and cultivate it. And as much as I love my job, if we pitched in, then I have no doubt that I wouldn't be the only superperson among us."

The crowd applauded once again and Kurt's heart was full of pride, love, awe at the man before him. Pride at his sense of duty and commitment to his adopted homeland, love for his genuine nature and humility, and awe that he got to call him his.

"Thank you again for this humbling honor," Superman added, he looked over his shoulder for the okay from the event personnel before announcing to the audience, "At this time I will be fielding questions from the press."

The mass of reporters sprung to life at Superman's notice, all of them, Kurt included, shouting for the hero to call on them. However, Kurt was really only half-heartedly attempting to catch Superman's attention since he knew fully well that the Kryptonian knew exactly who he was. _Sue is going to be so impressed when I'm the first per_—

"Yes, you, the lady in the red blazer," Superman said, picking a woman clear on the other side of where Kurt was standing. The reporter blinked a couple times in shock, he had expected Blaine to choose him first. He couldn't help but feel a little jilted at the action.

"Katherine Hunt, _The Washington Post_. Superman, you are obviously a symbol of patriotic pride here in America—"

"Well, thank you," he said.

"—yet I'm curious to know what your stance is on more global issues, such as the conflicts in the Middle East, human trafficking, as well as drug wars in nations outside of ours."

"Yes," Superman began. "Although those are all serious problems plaguing our planet, they are intricate and complex, and involve cultural and religious relations that I do not feel that I am equipped to handle as of now. At the moment, I plan to focus on eradicating crime on a domestic level while gaining more experience and expertise before expanding into international concerns."

"Thank you," Ms. Hunt replied.

"Thank you," Superman said before scanning the audience to pick another reporter. "Yes, the gentleman towards the back."

_Also not me, _Kurt thought while he ground his teeth together in annoyance.

"Charles Martin, _The San Francisco Chronicle,_" the man introduced himself. "In your interview with _The Daily Planet _earlier this summer, you spoke about your home planet, Krypton. Apart from its destruction, can you tell us anything more about the planet?"

Kurt winced, Blaine never liked to discuss Krypton and his birth parents. The hero had opened up once one night back in July when Kurt had told him the story of his mother's death and his father's marriage to Carole and their reconfigured family, but Kurt could tell how much it pained Blaine to speak of Lara and Jor-El, especially since there had apparently been a lot of bad blood between he and his birth father during Blaine's adolescence.

Though he may have been feeling peeved, Kurt couldn't help but feel bad for his boyfriend as he watched him fight to keep his face a mask of friendly stoicism. "Yes, Krypton was a highly advanced society that I believe was located in the Xeno Galaxy. It revolved around a red star that served as its sun, and its collision with it caused the planet's ultimate demise. My father, a scientist on Krypton, sent me to Earth not only to save myself and preserve his legacy, but to attempt to keep Earth from repeating the fatal mistakes those on Krypton made."

"Well, we're glad to have ya," Charles told him. Superman responded with a tight smile and wasted no time returning to selecting another reporter to attend to. After having to answer such a personal question, Kurt wasn't surprised that he was selected, due to the fact that Blaine knew the questions that he had been assigned to ask, since the hero had technically been assigned to ask them as well.

"Yes, Mr. Lane?"

Though Kurt liked to believe he was the epitome of professionalism, his cheeks colored when Superman called on him by name. He didn't want to look like he had been given special treatment, yet on the other hand, he and Superman were obviously previously acquainted, and he supposed it would look awkward if they pretended like they didn't know each other, especially since his interview with the hero was the biggest story of the year thus far.

"Nice to see you again, Superman," Kurt said, trying to seem courteous.

Superman grinned at him with a much more genuine smile than the previous reporter had received. "You as well."

"Right, yes, well," Kurt stumbled to regain his decorous exterior. "There has been talk of the President offering you a special position within the American Government, potentially within the military. Would you consider accepting such a position?"

"I have not received any formal offer from the White House, and as flattering as it would be, I prefer to remain a 'free agent', so to speak," Blaine answered. "And although I consider it my duty to protect our nation, I am nobody's weapon."

"Thank you, Superman," Kurt replied, yet just as Blaine was re-situating himself to call on another person, he shouted, "Oh! Superman, just one more thing!" 

"Yes, Mr. Lane?" Blaine addressed him, slightly befuddled by his boyfriend's insisting.

"I don't know if you're familiar with the series of explosions that have occurred in and around Metropolis—"'

"I am," he affirmed, a tinge of defensiveness in his tone.

"—Then, I was wondering, since they are hypothesized to be linked, what you are doing to prevent them and protect civilians?"

"Well, Mr. Lane, as I'm sure you know, I patrol the city frequently on the lookout for exactly these types of hazards daily—" _Oh I know, _Kurt quipped in his head, _it's the reason why you couldn't cuddle in bed last night _"—but I assure you bomb threats are on the top of my alert list. And I warn any person of the legal ramifications and punishments they are subject to if found to be involved in these sorts of activities."

0-0-0

_Boss is not going to be happy to hear about this, _Jacob worried as he watched Superman continue to answer the swarm of journalists' questions. He kept his eyes locked on Hummel though, who was five or six people deep to the front of him, not to mention additionally separated by the barricade dividing the press from the rest of spectators.

Jacob ruminated about the situation as he observed the scene in front of him with unfocused eyes. Now Superman was going to be on extra alert for any suspicious activity and if how Superman totally beasted Dave's little test earlier this summer was any indication of his might, he wasn't confident that his boss's plan was going to succeed, especially since they had yet to figure out Superman's weakness, _if _he even had any. And now with Hummel giving the issue all this attention—

_Wait, _he interrupted his own train of thought. _Superman called him Lane, like Louis Lane from The Daily Planet! He interviewed Superman back in May! Ugh, Boss is going to pay dearly for Hummel's pen name…maybe now I'll finally be able to afford that deluxe limited-edition lightsaber…or that mega zoom for my camera for my 'birdwatching hobby'…or even more 'pre-owned' panties on the internet…_

Snapping out of his thoughts, Jacob resumed his close watch of Kurt for the remainder of the press conference. With information this valuable and so many potential purchases he could make with it, Kurt Hummel/Louis Lane was not leaving Jacob's sight.

0-0-0

With the formal part of the ceremony over, the more celebratory, entertainment-centered half could begin. Although watching any distinguished individual receiving the key to the city would attract attention, Kurt knew that the majority of the crowd had come out for this part of the festivities. Not that he could really blame them—Ryan Seacrest was serving as the Master of Ceremonies for the event, and all sorts of performances and games were promised to those who attended. Ryan took the stage, earning a round of applause nowhere near the din Superman merited, but got things started nonetheless.

"We've gotten off to a great start today honoring Superman," he began, "but now it's time to celebrate! And what better way to kick things off than with some very beautiful dancers? Ladies and gentlemen, I introduce to you the Super-Girls!"

The crowd went wild as ACDC's "Shoot to Thrill" blared through the area's speakers. Despite his best attempts at staying cool and collected in contrast to the squealing fangirls surrounding him, (he had even heard a couple screechy marriage proposals amongst the commotion) Kurt was powerless against becoming swept up into all the excitement thrumming in the air as twenty or so women scampered on the stage. That was until he saw what the dancers were wearing. Kurt knew he shouldn't have been surprised, but he couldn't help the slight bugging out of his eyes as he took in how they managed to slut up his boyfriend's garb of justice. There were the skin-tight, royal blue midriff tops with the Superman emblem emblazoned cross their buxom chests, along with practically microscopic pleated red skirts, and of course, they topped off the look with knee-high, four-inch red pleather boots. Kurt looked on with distaste as they completed their predictably provocative and unimaginative choreography. Something ugly flared in Kurt's gut and only grew when he saw that Superman seemed to be enjoying their performance.

"They know how to make entrance, don't they?" Ryan asked the crowd once the women had finished their routine. The crowd cheered in confirmation, though Kurt could tell that it was mostly the men praising the dancers. The emcee turned to regard Superman, "Now get on over here Superman!"

The hero rose and joined him center stage, where the Super-Girls wasted no time snuggling up to the hero, placing their hands all over his spandex-covered chest and arms, giggling as they did so. Kurt knew that Blaine was gay, he had a lingering soreness in his ass to prove it, but he couldn't prevent the jealous pit twisting in his stomach at the sight of his boyfriend soaking up the attention from the opposite sex with such conviction. He knew that this was important, that Blaine put up the straight front so no one would dream of drawing the conclusion that Superman might be Blaine Anderson, but even that supposedly reassuring tidbit of information didn't squelch Kurt's now burning desire to beat all those skanks with their grotesque, poorly made stripper boots.

Thankfully, Ryan intervened before the dancers' groping of Superman could progress anymore, quickly sidling up to the group and remarking, "Now, the official press conference is over, but we asked everyone on E! Online to submit their questions for Superman. We got millions of submissions, and we want to know if you'd be up for answering the five most popular ones?"

"Have at it, Ryan," Superman replied with a cheeky wink to the audience. The entire female population of the spectators swooned at the gesture, the dancers to giggle _yet again_ and cling to his biceps, and Kurt's gag reflex to be triggered.

"Okay, first of all, boxers or briefs?"

Superman laughed lightly before answering, "Boxers."

_True, _Kurt verified internally.

"Glad we got that one cleared up. Now, what's your favorite superpower, if you have one?" Ryan asked.

"Well, I do save a lot of gas money with the whole flying thing," the hero replied with a coy smile. "And it really is quite scenic."

The reporter smiled to himself, recalling the many instances he'd flown with Blaine. He did have a point, apart from the bird's eye view of the city, flying provided Kurt with a unique sense of closeness and intimacy with his boyfriend, not to mention the sex on the ceiling.

Kurt had gotten distracted recalling all the romantic and coital advantages that Superman's ability of flight provided in their relationship and therefore he only caught the tail-end of Ryan's third question. "…with the costume, man? You know some top designers have expressed interest in revamping your look."

He instantly refocused on the interview, eager to hear Blaine's explanation for his less-than-fashionable get-up since he'd asked his boyfriend the same thing for so long. "Someone very close to me designed this for me, and I have an obligation to wear it."

"I guess that's the Superman sense of duty for ya," Ryan regarded the audience with a shrug. He turned back to the Kryptonian, "Besides, everyone might not be a fan of the red-yellow-blue combo, but I bet none of the ladies have any problems with the spandex-fit."

Superman attempted to brush off the insinuation with a self-effacing smile, yet the dancers took the statement as an invitation to get even more handsy with the hero, _seriously, have these skanks even heard of the term 'personal space'? _and one even grabbed the Ryan's mic and guaranteed, "Oh, we _definitely _don't!"

The women in the audience let out a round of "woos!" and cat-calls while Kurt tried to remind himself of the dangers of climbing up onstage and to re-instate Blaine's personal bubble and bitch-slap the dancers. He couldn't believe how jealous he'd become, apparently sharing Superman was more difficult than he thought.

"Well, that leads us to our last question, Superman, you've got to have a girlfriend. Who's the lucky lady?"

"No, I don't have a girlfriend," Blaine responded, remaining aloof and keeping his eyes from wandering over to wear Kurt was standing.

"Are you in the market for one?" Ryan pressed. "Because I think I know of a few ladies who'd be interested."

As if on cue, the female spectators broke out into a chorus of "_SUPERMAN PICK ME_!" "_I LOVE YOU, SUPERMAN_!" "_I'M YOUR FUTURE WIFE, SUPERMAN, YOU JUST DON'T KNOW IT YET_!"

_In their dreams, _he scoffed. He was becoming way past annoyed at the women fawning over his boyfriend, and his boyfriend not doing anything about it, that the reporter knew he should remove himself from the situation before he did anything stupid. He stalked off, nudging his way rather aggressively through the crowd, not caring if he missed anything, since he could ask Superman himself for the details later. _Provided he isn't too busy with his pimping out his new 'girlfriends', _he added bitterly. Kurt walked a couple blocks or so until he ducked into an alley, leaning against the undoubtedly germy brick wall, concealing himself behind the profile of a dumpster to cool off.

0-0-0

Jacob hurried after Kurt, tripping and being shoved more times than he'd like to admit. _Jeez, for such a girly guy he sure is agile,_ he remarked as he pushed through the throng of people. Thankfully, Jacob didn't lose sight of him, and was able to follow his target to an alley a block or two away from all the commotion. He stayed back, lingering at the entrance of the alley and craning his neck to peek at Kurt…who had simply tucked himself behind a dumpster and looked distraught.

The man's actions befuddled him, why had Kurt left the ceremony he was supposed to be covering? _What, does he have like claustrophobia or something? _Jacob wondered.

0-0-0

"Sorry," Superman told Ryan. "My job doesn't really allow me to have much of a love life."

All of Superman's deranged little fangirls let out a resounding "awww" in disappointment at his answer, causing Santana to roll her eyes yet again. Having to deal with all the shrieking teenage psychos was even worse than she had imagined. _Gracias a Dios whoever planned this shindig thought to include some lady eye candy, _Santana leered internally. She hadn't been able to keep her eyes off of the second blonde "Super-Girl" to the right all throughout the performance and interview. _Pretty face, awesome rack, maybe today wasn't such a waste after all_…

"Alright everyone, we're going to take a short break to get the stage set for all the awesome entertainment we have in store for you," Ryan announced. "So bear with us and we'll be back in a few! I suggest you all take this opportunity to visit the merchandise stalls or get some Superman themed grub, all thanks to our sponsor Pepsi!"

The emcee, along with Superman and the dancers exited the stage, and Santana realized that this was her chance to warn him. She blazed through the now moving group of people, not hesitating to give any fatass that dared to get in her path a hearty shove as she tried to make her way to where she had seen Superman leave. Yet as she was approaching the backstage area, a red and blue blur whizzed by in her peripheral vision. Immediately, Santana changed her direction and towards where she could only guess where the blur headed.

0-0-0

The whole 'alone with his thoughts' thing was actually working to calm him down, until he heard "Kurt, what's wrong?" and looked up to find himself face-to-face with Superman himself.

"Aren't you supposed to be basking in the affection of your adoring fans?" he questioned acrimoniously.

"Well, they're setting up for the concert portion, so I could sneak away for a couple minutes," Blaine said. His boyfriend simply 'hmm'ed' in reply. "Seriously, what's up?"

0-0-0

"Ugh! Get out of my way—_Jacob_?" Santana faltered when she realized who she'd bumped into. "What are you doing—"

"Shh!" He urged, clamping a hand over mouth. Santana was just about to rip him a new one for touching her when she saw what—or rather, who—Jacob was motioning to in way of silent explanation.

It was Superman and Hummel. _Together_. The pair was standing close to each other and talking in low voices. Santana wrenched Jacob's hand off her and leaned closer to better hear what they were saying.

0-0-0

Kurt sighed irritably. "Nothing. Nothing's wrong, nothing's up, okay? I just needed a break from all the craziness."

Blaine's honey hazel eyes bore straight into his sea green ones. "You're lying."

"So what, you're a lie detector now?" Kurt accused him defensively. "Excuse me while I add that to your list of abilities."

"Why can't you just tell me what you're so pissed off about? Did I do something?" he pleaded, his voice mostly frustrated, but also combined with a vulnerability that made Kurt feel even worse than he already did about letting those stupid skanks get to him.

"No, Blaine. You're…you're perfect. It's me. Why don't you just go back to your Super-sluts, they're probably a lot more fun than your moody boyfriend right now," Kurt sulked.

"Oh, so that's what this is about?" Blaine realized with a short laugh of disbelief. "Kurt, do I detect a hint of jealousy?"

The reporter rolled his eyes and folded his arms over his chest, nothing short of positively humiliated by the overtness of his unfounded insecurities. "Just fuck off, okay? Fly on back to your concert or whatever they have planned for you."

"Oh baby," Blaine began in slightly patronizing, but mostly comforting tone as he collected his boyfriend in his arms, ignoring Kurt's squirming. "Is this really about those dancers? You _know _I'm not attracted to them in the slightest! They aren't my type," he assured him, his voice dropping and his lips dangerously close to Kurt's.

Kurt labored a large exhale. "I know, Blaine, _I know. _But, watching you with them and then all the women screaming for you and you just soaking it all up, it just really pissed me off. I mean I get it's good that everyone thinks you're straight—"

"But it's not fair to you," Blaine cut in. "I'm sorry that me and those girls got on your nerves—"

"That's just the thing though!" Kurt pointed out shrilly. "They shouldn't! We've been together for what, almost three months? I'm more frustrated that it frustrated me, not the fact that you flirted with a couple of bimbo dancers."

"Still," Blaine insisted. "It's not a crime for you to feel a little possessive, Kurt. I know you trust me. God knows I'm not exactly the poster boy for letting things go—" Kurt snorted, recollecting the incident the night of their one-month anniversary "—but you're only human. But I'm sorry you feel that way, though, I must not be doing a good enough job of showing you what you do to me babe, how crazy you make me. Last night, for example…" He trailed off to nibble on Kurt's neck and rub circles into his hipbones with his thumbs "…I don't think I've come so hard in _ages_...'

"Oh no you don't," Kurt weakly protested Blaine's ministrations. He allowed the Kryptonian to continue for a few more moments before pushing Blaine off of him and glowering at the hero. "You didn't pick me first during the press conference."

"Well I didn't think you'd mind, since I'm planning on giving Louis Lane a personal, tell-all, clothing-optional interview later tonight," he explained suggestively before going right back to ravishing Kurt's neck.

"Is that so?" Kurt breathed, clutching onto Blaine's back and digging his fingertips into the hard muscle there, feeling himself slipping under the hero's spell. "Tha-that doesn't sound very pro-professional, Superman."

"That's because you're so fucking sexy, Mr. Lane," Blaine growled against the skin of his neck and drove his hips into Kurt's. The reporter gasped at the feel of Superman's half-hard cock aligned right along his. "You make me abandon every professional bone in my body, and make me just want to bone you."

"So I'm guessing that's _not _a Superman flashlight I feel pressing into my hip?" Kurt snarked, yet grinded back against him nonetheless.

Blaine lifted his head, so he could smirk devilishly right into Kurt's eyes. "What do you think, _Mr. Lane_?"

"I think you should probably get back to the seven million dollar ceremony the city of Metropolis is throwing you before they realize you're missing," Kurt told him sincerely.

Blaine sighed. "You're right. But you'll come back for the rest of it?"

"Yes," Kurt assured him, smoothing invisible wrinkles on the Kryptonian's suit. "You've sufficiently reminded me of your homosexuality."

He pressed their lips together for a quick kiss.

"Later?" Blaine asked hopefully.

"Later," Kurt repeated.

"Okay, I have the hospital visit and that benefit dinner thing, plus I was hoping to squeeze in a patrol, but I can—"

"Blaine," Kurt stopped him with a single finger to his lips. "Don't worry about it. When you get back, you get back. Besides, it'll give me time to think up questions for my interview with Superman."

Blaine beamed and kissed him again. "l love you."

"I love you," Kurt told him. He smacked Blaine lightly on the ass and ordered "Now go get 'em, Tiger."

Superman winked and in the blink of eye, lifted off and was out of sight. Kurt slumped against the brick wall, totally oblivious to all the potential damage it could cause his clothes, and marveled to himself, _I can't believe Superman's my boyfriend. _

0-0-0

_Oh my God, I can't believe Superman is his boyfriend, _Santana marveled to herself. But when she thought about it, it made sense. After all, the hero had turned her down when he had rescued her that one time. The Latina was disappointed in herself, she liked to believe that she possessed the best gaydar in Metropolis, but this one…wow. _What _is_ it about this guy? Is Hummel's ass the eighth wonder of the world or something? One thinG'S for sure, he does have a knack for attracting powerful, not to mention closeted men…Dave. What is Dave going to do when he fi—he can't find out. He could use it to ruin Superman and we'd be even more fucked. _She glanced over at Jacob, who seemed to either by on the verge of wetting himself with excitement or suffering physical pain from not bring able to speak.

Kurt exited the alleyway a moment later, the spring fully restored to his swishy step. She and Jacob flattened themselves against the opposite wall and held their breaths, luckily, the reporter was too caught up in his dreamy state to notice that if he turned his head the left he would find two eavesdroppers.

Once he disappeared down the street, Jacob finally burst. "OH MY—I CANT BELIEVE IT! SUPERMAN'S A HOMO! I'M GOING TO BE RICH! LUTHOR IS GOING TO—"

His catharsis was cut short by a yelp when Santana manhandled him into the alley and slammed his back brusquely against the brick.

"Okay, now listen to me, you pathetic excuse for a man," she began, her voice menacing and low, "you are not going to tell Dave about _anything _you just saw."

"_What?" _he squawked indignantly.

"You heard me."

"Oh yeah, well what are you going to do about it?" Jacob challenged her.

"Well, _I'm _not going to do anything, because you see, when I get angry—like _really angry_—I get taken over by my other evil personality, I call her Snixx."

"Snixx?" he repeated doubtfully.

The Latina nodded her head in confirmation, "I hear she's terrifying. From the accounts I've been told, there's always a lot of screaming in Spanish, dislocated body parts, and blood. I call her wrath of words and violence Snixx Juice and I can't be blamed for anything she does, it's like the Incredible Hulk." She towered over Jacob before she threatened, "So if you do tell Dave what we just saw, you're going to be introduced to Snixx and trust me, little man, it will not be pretty. Do we have an understanding?"

Jacob cowered and trembled, barely able to stutter out a feeble "y-y-yeh-yes."

Santana grinned wickedly. "Good."

**A/N: Ta-da! So there you have it. Next time we'll learn just exactly what Kurt and Blaine meant by later (spoiler alert: it's smuttiy smut smut-smut) and check in with Jacob and Santana! Thank you all for your patience, and remember that I will never abandon this story! In fact, it's been your unwavering support that has motivated me to actually continue this story longer than any others that I had written previously on this site. So keep up all the love and I'll keep writing! **

**Hearts and Stars,**

**youngandobsessed**


	24. Author's Note and Preview

**Hey everyone! I am SO sorry for the lack of update, but I wanted to let you all know that I have created a Scarves and Coffee account in the event this story gets taken down. I will still be posting here until any action is taken, but I wanted to let everyone know where they could find me if something happens. I have the same username over there as I do here, youngandobsessed, and will be posting all my Klaine stories on Scarves and Coffee over the weekend! Thank you all for your support, cooperation and patience. **

**And since I'm an awful updater, here's a little preview of what's in store in the next chapter:**

"Excuse me, Superman?"

The female alto voice interrupted his study of a sketch, done in trademark childish scrawl of pencil and crayon, of himself holding hands with a group of children. The dinner he was attending, and had been made Guest of Honor at, was a charity that used art therapy to help juvenile cancer patients during their treatment. Tonight, artwork that had featured Superman had been made into a small exhibit that had been dedicated to him at the Children's Museum of Metropolis. It overwhelmed and humbled Blaine to think that he had served as such inspiration to these children. He turned to respond to the voice, it was a middle-aged brunette with kind-looking features. Clutching onto her right hand was presumably her son, Blaine assumed, based on the boy and woman's matching auburn hair and brown eyes.

"Yes, Ma'am?" he acknowledged her with a smile.

"I'm so sorry to bother you, but my son missed the photo session earlier this evening, and it would mean the world if you would take a picture with him," the lady explained.

"Of course!" Superman answered brightly.

"_Thank you,_" she replied, her tone revealing that if had Blaine refused she would have had a very unhappy little boy on her hands. She tugged on her son's hand and gently prompted him, "Dylan, what do we say to Superman?"

Blaine looked down at Dylan, who seemed to be petrified in the hero's presence. He grinned warmly down at the boy, who couldn't have been more than five, trying to convey that there was nothing to be afraid of, yet the boy remained as still as a statue.

"I'm sorry," she apologized quickly for her son's unresponsiveness. "He's usually so chatty and…well, I guess he's just a bit starstruck."

"Starstruck?" Superman repeated with playful incredulity. He addressed Dylan. "Of who, me? That's crazy!"

The mother couldn't help but snicker slightly as Blaine crouched down so he and Dylan were face-to-face before speaking gently, "Come on Dylan, let's take a picture!"

All the boy was able to do was gulp and nod, but Blaine shifted next to him, laying a large hand on his small shoulder and smiled widely for the lady who was already poised with her camera. She snapped the shot, promptly checking to make sure it turned out okay and thanked him.

"It's my pleasure," Blaine insisted as he held out his hand. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

The woman blinked owlishly at him a few times, taken aback by Superman's friendly forwardness and natural charm. She clasped her hand with his to shake it and stammered, "It's…Amanda."

"Well, it was wonderful to meet you, Dylan and Amanda," Superman told them sincerely.

"You too, Superman," Amanda replied, blushing slightly at Superman's use of her name. "Thank you again, for the picture and…you know, everything you do."

"Just doing my job," he told her with a shrug and a wink. Amanda walked away swiftly with Dylan in tow, bashfully realizing that maybe it wasn't only her son that was starstruck

**There ya have it! After this is going to be smutty smut smut-smut, but I kind of consider this a little gratuitous in its own right because Blaine/Darren and children **_**does **_**things to me. See you lovelies next time, either here or on Scarves and Coffee!**

**Hearts and Stars, **

**youngandobsessed**


	25. Chapter 23 Full

**A/N: Okay, so I know it's taken me just short of **_**forever **_**to finish a full update, but I pulled out all the sexy and fluffy stops to make this one worth the wait! And since you've all waited enough for this, I'll shut up and let y'all get to it!**

"Excuse me, Superman?"

The female alto voice interrupted his study of a sketch, done in trademark childish scrawl of pencil and crayon, of himself holding hands with a group of children. The dinner he was attending, and had been made Guest of Honor at, was a charity that used art therapy to help juvenile cancer patients during their treatment. Tonight, artwork that had featured Superman had been made into a small exhibit that had been dedicated to him at the Children's Museum of Metropolis. It overwhelmed and humbled Blaine to think that he had served as such inspiration to these children. He turned to respond to the voice, it was a middle-aged brunette with kind-looking features. Clutching onto her right hand was presumably her son, Blaine assumed, based on the boy and woman's matching auburn hair and brown eyes.

"Yes, Ma'am?" he acknowledged her with a smile.

"I'm so sorry to bother you, but my son missed the photo session earlier this evening, and it would mean the world if you would take a picture with him," the lady explained.

"Of course!" Superman answered brightly.

"_Thank you,_" she replied, her tone revealing that if had Blaine refused she would have had a very unhappy little boy on her hands. She tugged on her son's hand and gently prompted him, "Dylan, what do we say to Superman?"

Blaine looked down at Dylan, who seemed to be petrified in the hero's presence. He grinned warmly down at the boy, who couldn't have been more than five, trying to convey that there was nothing to be afraid of, yet the boy remained as still as a statue.

"I'm sorry," she apologized quickly for her son's unresponsiveness. "He's usually so chatty and…well, I guess he's just a bit starstruck."

"Starstruck?" Superman repeated with playful incredulity. He addressed Dylan. "Of who, me? That's crazy!"

The mother couldn't help but snicker slightly as Blaine crouched down so he and Dylan were face-to-face before speaking gently, "Come on Dylan, let's take a picture!"

All the boy was able to do was gulp and nod, but Blaine shifted next to him, laying a large hand on his small shoulder and smiled widely for the lady who was already poised with her camera. She snapped the shot, promptly checking to make sure it turned out okay and thanked him.

"It's my pleasure," Blaine insisted as he held out his hand. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

The woman blinked owlishly at him a few times, taken aback by Superman's friendly forwardness and natural charm. She clasped her hand with his to shake it and stammered, "It's…Amanda."

"Well, it was wonderful to meet you, Dylan and Amanda," Superman told them sincerely.

"You too, Superman," Amanda replied, blushing slightly at Superman's use of her name. "Thank you again, for the picture and…you know, everything you do."

"Just doing my job," he told her with a shrug and a wink. Amanda walked away swiftly with Dylan in tow, bashfully realizing that maybe it wasn't only her son that was starstruck.

0-0-0

Kurt let out an exhausted sigh as he trudged over the threshold to his apartment. It had been a long day to say the least. After all the excitement of the ceremony, Kurt had also grabbed dinner with Tina at their favorite Thai place. The meal was more enjoyable than he predicted it to be, he was glad that he got Tina alone, seeing as Mike was in LA for a music video shoot and Mercedes was obviously not in attendance. He felt bad that he didn't spend more one-on-one time with Tina, although quiet in nature, the Asian woman was a lot of fun and unassumingly insightful when she opened up. Even though the day had been a success (the concert was a hit, and Kurt couldn't help burst out laughing at Blaine's expression when Katy Perry took the stage this afternoon), the reporter was tired. He put the leftovers from dinner in the fridge (no doubt Blaine would seek them out and scarf them down later), flopped down on the couch and began composing his coverage of the ceremony.

Kurt was so deep into 'writing mode' that he didn't to notice the soft rapping on his balcony door. Blaine chuckled to himself at the sight of his boyfriend's face, furrowed in concentration, from the other side of the glass of the French doors. The hero knocked on the door once again, inhaling deeply and trying not to talk himself out of what he had planned for tonight.

It was only when Kurt leaned back to take off his reading glasses and pinch the bridge of his nose for a quick breather before attempting to power through the last paragraphs of his article when he heard someone at the door. He looked up and saw that Blaine was on the balcony.

_Weird, the door's unlocked, why didn't he just let himself in? _The reporter pondered to himself as he crossed the living room to open the door.

"I'm sorry for the late time, but I do remember promising you an interview, Mr. Lane," Blaine said.

Kurt tilted his head and regarded him with a puzzled look. Why did Blaine wait for Kurt to come let him in? And why was he speaking in that formal tone he uses when he was Superman? _He's acting like we've never met bef—Oh. Ooooooh. _The reporter couldn't contain the instantaneous blush that swept his features when he came to the realization that Blaine was initiating roleplay. The prospect disconcerted and thrilled Kurt in equal amounts. He'd always deemed the act too kinky (not to mention _incredibly _awkward) and had never done it personally, but now that it was Blaine proposing they try it, Kurt reconsidered. He couldn't deny how exhilarating all that sexual tension had been before Blaine had revealed himself as Superman, and more importantly it was _Blaine _that was initiating something sexy. Usually he left Kurt to determine the nature and pace of their sex life, and the fact that Blaine had mustered up the courage to suggest something to liven up the foreplay was something Kurt could definitely be down with. By the time Kurt's eyes had refocused on Blaine, the hero was eyeing him nervously just about ready to drop the charade when Kurt schooled his expression into something that was aloof but still inviting and replied, "No need to apologize, Superman. I know how busy today must have been for you."

"Thank you for understanding," Superman smiled softly. He motioned to the interior of the apartment. "May I?"

"Oh!" Kurt said startling himself a little out of his haze. "Yes, please come in."

The couple entered the apartment. Kurt called over his shoulder "Can I interest you in a glass of wine—provided that you aren't flying tonight."

"Well, I'm going to be here a while, aren't I?" Superman replied as Kurt showed him over to the couch. _All night if everything goes according to plan, _the reporter chimed to himself. "One glass of wine won't hurt."

"I'll be right back then," Kurt informed him, scampering off into the kitchen to fetch the wine.

Once the reporter had left his sight, Blaine couldn't help but bounce on the couch slightly from excitement. He was experiencing a strange mix of relief and thrill at the fact that Kurt had embraced the whole roleplaying thing. His body was thrumming with sexual energy as the minute or two it took for his boyfriend to retrieve the wine and glasses transpired. Kurt returned and Blaine could see that he was just as wired, yet was conditioning himself to stay in character, which for some strange reason only served to turn Blaine on even more.

"Thank you," Blaine told the other man as Kurt took a seat next to him on the couch.

"My pleasure," Kurt replied demurely as he poured the wine. He passed a glass to Blaine, raised his, and proposed, "To you, Superman."

"No," the Kryptonian disagreed. "Mr. Lane, to you,"

"Please, I wasn't given the Key to the City today for saving the world on a regular basis," Kurt pointed out.

"Well, maybe not," Blain ceded, yet insisted "But you strive for truth and justice just like I do, only in a different method, so you're pretty inspirational in your own right."

His words overwhelmed Kurt with emotion, but the reporter averted his eyes, unsure of how to reply and so very very tempted to end the act and kiss his boyfriend senseless. Instead, he simply clinked his glass with Superman's and took a very ungentlemanly gulp of Shiraz. Blaine chuckled and did the same, taking a small sip of his wine.

"So…um, we should begin the interview," Kurt began flustered as fumbled for his tape recorder on the coffee table.

"I agree," Superman concurred, setting his glass down. "Ask away, Mr. Lane."

Kurt hit record. "Okay, well to start, what was your general impression of today's festivities?"

"I was floored," Superman answered instantly. "I was thankful that I had the foresight to prepare something to say because all of the fanfare today rendered me absolutely speechless."

"Speaking of which, in your acceptance speech, you mentioned how receiving the key served as a symbol of acceptance from the planet's population. Could you expound on what this award means to you?"

"Certainly. I don't like to speak about my personal life too much, but growing up, I constantly felt isolated from my peers with the knowledge that I was an extraterrestrial. Yet, this honor demonstrated to me that my being different wasn't something I had to be ashamed of anymore, that the place of my birth doesn't make me any less of an American. Plus, as I mentioned in my address, this award was the ultimate positive reinforcement that I'm doing something right, that I'm successfully fulfilling my destiny."

"Thank you for sharing," Kurt smiled decorously. "Now I know you'd like to maintain your privacy, Superman, but is it safe to say that you grew and matured like a regular human? You had a childhood and adolescence like the rest of us?"

"That I did," he confirmed. "Just because I'm an alien didn't mean I was exempt from those awkward teenage years."

"For some reason, I'm having trouble imagining you as an awkward teenager," Kurt chuckled. It was true, he could never quite picture a younger Blaine even with the few photographs he'd seen, especially since he apparently wore an obscene amount of flannel back in Westerville.

"It's probably for the best," said Superman. "You're someone I strive to impress, Mr. Lane, and I'd rather you see me at my best."

The journalist could feel his cheeks burn in reaction to the alluring, suggestive timbre of Superman's voice. He reeled himself in however, taking another sip of his wine. Kurt didn't want this to be over just yet, and decided to deflect with a more serious, professional question.

"Yes, well, what are your thoughts regarding the rumors you'll be awarded this year's Nobel Peace Prize? Many think that today's accolade clinched the title for you."

The hero shrugged bashfully and dismissed the question with a self-effacing roll of his eyes. "They're rumors. I try not to focus on things such as that. While I certainly appreciate the acclaim, they're not the reason I do what I do."

"A smart stance to take if you ask me," Kurt replied with a nod approval. "In another vein, many scientists have expressed interest in trying to locate Krypton and conducting research about your home planet. How do you feel about that initiative?"

He watched Blaine tense guiltily. Kurt didn't want to ask, he really didn't, but Sue would definitely notice that something up with her most inexorable reporter if he shied away from asking the tough questions because he didn't want to hurt his secret boyfriend's feelings.

"Well, I suppose there is much to be learned from Kryptonian society," he began stoically. "However, I'm wary that scientists' efforts would be in vain. Krypton, or where it once was, is millions—if not _tens _of millions—of lightyears away. I'm not sure even the most sophisticated technology would be able to reach it."

"I see," Kurt responded, his tone carefully neutral. "And would you be open to assisting their efforts? You said that you father was a scientist on Krypton, did he leave you anything that you would allow researchers access to?"

"Not that I know of," Blaine replied cautiously, his distant tone hinting to Kurt that he wasn't being completely honest. If this was an ordinary interview, the reporter would have ruthlessly pressed for more information, but Kurt chose to exercise discretion in this case. He knew the hero was only omitting intel for his and Earth's safety. Moreover, he didn't wish to strain _The Planet's _relationship with Superman, especially due to the fact he had spoken with them exclusively since his arrival to Metropolis, nor his own personal one with Blaine. _This interview _is_ supposed to be doubling as foreplay, after all._

Kurt opted for asking one more question that he knew had the potential to discomfort Blaine. "Superman, obviously you've answered the age-old question 'Are we alone in the universe?' with a resounding no," Blaine chuckled. "Any other life forms we should be aware of?"

"I know that they exist, but that's really all I could tell you. I lack an extensive knowledge of any species that aren't human or Kryptonian," came another tight-lipped reply from the hero.

_Definitely time for a subject change, _Kurt concluded to himself. He figured he could coax the rest of what he needed out of Blaine later, it was amazing how an orgasm could make a person more agreeable, and he was getting anxious. The journalist fidgeted nervously on the couch cushions, apprehensive as to how to make the transition to what Kurt wanted to inquire about next.

"Well, I um, appreciate your time and cooperation…" he started stiltedly.

"Believe me, Mr. Lane, it was my pleasure."

_Ugh, there's that stupid sexy voice again, _the reporter cursed internally. _Jeez Kurt, why are you worrying about a question you intimately know the answer to? Out with it already!_

"You…you told Ryan Seacrest that you don't have much time for a love life," he stated shyly.

Superman locked gazes with him, his eyes alight with intrigue and thinly masked excitement. "Yes?" he prompted huskily, leaning toward Kurt slightly.

"Well, I just imagine you must get lonely," Kurt told him, his voice small and soft, as he drifted, seemingly unconsciously, closer to the hero.

"I do," Superman admitted quietly, his face now merely inches from Kurt's.

"How do you cope with it?" Kurt murmured. "How do you stand the solitude?"

"Off the record?" the Kryptonian requested. Kurt nodded his head quickly. "By developing painfully masochistic feelings for high-power journalists."

Kurt's breath hitched at the admission. Although he knew from an outside perspective, he looked like he had watched one too many romantic comedies and read one too many Danielle Steele novels, but Kurt couldn't bring himself to care. He was lost in the moment.

"I still feel you on my lips, Kurt," Superman whispered seductively. "Every moment of every day. You have no idea how crazy you make me, like today for instance, when I had to be perfectly professional to you at the press conference. I wanted to tell you how beautiful you looked in the sunlight, how luminous you skin appeared, how blue your eyes were. This is wrong, I shouldn't be d—"

The hero was cut off by a breathy sigh of "_Superman_" and Kurt closing the millimeters of distance between their lips. The kiss was an intoxicating juxtaposition of passion and worship, Kurt's lips pressed against his insistently, but their movements were slow and unhurried. Blaine cupped his boyfriend's jaw with his strong firm hand, the touch causing Kurt to melt even more.

They continued like that for several minutes, simply kissing passionately and gradually moving closer and closer to each other. Before he knew it, Kurt was wrapped in Superman's strong arms and straddling his lap, their tongues alternating between lazily dancing and fiercely dueling for dominance.

Suddenly, Kurt was gasping for air and the hero was looking up at him with swollen lips and fretful eyes. "We can't—"

He silenced him with a kiss. "We can," Kurt asserted lowly but heatedly. "No one should be alone, especially not you. You deserve all the love the universe can give."

The pair exchanged an intense gaze, both aware that Kurt's words weren't just said as part of their farce, that there was something deeper and more profound being implied. Blaine didn't reply verbally however, he simply smashed their lips together once again, enthusiastically claiming Kurt's mouth as he clutched onto his hips. The reporter knew there would be identical sets of fingerprint-shaped bruises on his hips in the morning, but he welcomed the idea of having a reminder of tonight's lovemaking.

Kurt began to rock his hips down in an increasingly frantic rhythm, letting out all sorts of little gasps and sounds at the feel of the friction of his cock aligned with Blaine's.

"I—_ooh, _baby…" the reporter knew he was babbling, but Kurt was having quite the struggle articulating coherently when the man he loved was thrusting up demandingly against him and untucking his shirt expertly from his pants. "I—I _need…_"

"What?" Blaine prodded in a gravelly tone that never failed to cover every inch of his skin with goosebumps. He paused his sucking on Kurt's neck to look into his eyes with a probing smolder. "What do you need? Just tell me and I'll give it to you."

Kurt took a moment to collect his wits. He usually felt at the very least somewhat self-conscious about disclosing one of his fantasies, but the journalist was too delirious with desire for reticence.

"I want you to take me up against the wall," he panted.

Blaine seemed to take to the idea immediately, groaning as soon as Kurt had finished speaking and squeezing his hips. His blatant zeal for the idea both calmed Kurt and excited him at the same time. He knew that his boyfriend was always exceedingly cautious when it came to his enhanced strength, but Kurt couldn't resist fantasizing about what it would be like to be pinned to the wall by Blaine's bulging biceps, well-muscled but still so deceptively small on account of just how much weight those arms could truly lift. He thought back to the night when Superman had rescued him, how he'd caught the helicopter _and_ himself without so much as breaking a sweat. And since they'd been experimenting with Blaine's powers in the bedroom lately…

"Hold on," Superman rasped into Kurt's ear. The reporter acquiesced, locking his arms around Blaine's neck and wrapping his legs securely around his torso when the hero stood up. He continued to kiss Kurt ardently, cupping his ass as walked them to the bedroom, pressing Kurt's back into the wall across from his bed. The journalist moaned at the contact and resumed canting his pelvis against Blaine's with a reckless urgency.

"Eager, are we now baby?" Superman queried smugly.

"Well, I would like to be naked sometime before dawn," Kurt quipped in reply.

"I think we can make that happen," Blaine told him, his voice filled with an auspicious mischief.

"We better," Kurt countered devilishly, biting down on the juncture between Superman's neck and shoulder, eliciting a strangled cry of pleasure from the Kryptonian. Emboldened but not satisfied, Kurt unwound his arms from his neck and unbuttoned his shirt at a tortuously slow speed, Blaine watching with his every move with dark lustful eyes, staring at Kurt predatorily as he popped each button from its hole one by one.

Kurt let his arms fall as he shrugged off his shirt, letting the fabric flutter to the ground. Immediately, Blaine hoisted him higher against the wall and attacked his chest with kisses, licks, and bites. His eyes rolled back in his head, he let out a low keen and dug his fingertips into his lover's hair, fighting the copious amount of product it held to do so.

"You're flawless," Superman whispered reverently against the creamy skin of Kurt's flat abdomen.

"Ugh," the other man grunted in return. "Get naked."

The hero chuckled lowly, his form momentarily shifting into a blur, moving so quickly that Kurt remained suspended in mid-air against the wall until Blaine's hands returned to his hips, his costume and undershorts a heap on the floor just a split-second later.

"Mmm, that was fast," the reporter remarked jauntily.

"It was," Superman initially agreed. He shifted into a blur once again and Kurt suddenly felt a rush of air, deducing the Superman had stripped off the rest of his clothing. A quick glance down at his lower half confirmed it and when he looked back at Blaine's face (his gaze may have lingered for a moment or two on the sight of his erection lined up with Superman's own thick, flushed cock), the Kryptonian was wearing a haughty smirk. "But don't let that fool you, Mr. Lane. I may be speedy, but I also have a thousand times the stamina that an average man has," he placed his lips millimeters from Kurt's ear and murmured, "which means I can fuck you, quite literally, _all night long_."

Although he knew that probably wasn't going to happen, Kurt couldn't help but let out a low groan of his own at the prospect. Deciding to fight fire with fire, he leaned in close to Blaine and whispered in his ear just as the hero had done to him, "Then what are you waiting for, Superman?"

Blaine answered with a playful growl before capturing his mouth in a searing kiss, the hero's tongue plundering his mouth, and Kurt meeting him just as eagerly. Once more, he felt himself hover unsupported and when Blaine returned, he noticed that the hero was only holding him up with a single steady hand. Kurt hooked his legs back around Blaine instinctively, his eyes pulled to sight of the Kryptonian's flexed arm before he let out a jolt and a gasp. Blaine's other hand had dipped between Kurt's cheeks, a well-oiled finger traced down the cleft before he felt the digit circle his rim temptingly.

"Do-Don't tease me," Kurt stuttered out, clasping onto his shoulders. Blaine obliged him, only skirting his fingertip twice more around his opening before pushing in at a deliberate yet unyielding pace. Kurt exhaled harshly through his nose at the penetration, yet kept from tensing up so his lover could begin to pump his finger in and out. Blaine must have noticed the other man's struggle, so he began to kiss Kurt again, albeit sloppily, before he inserted a second and third finger to stretch the reporter.

Kurt couldn't help the swell of exhilaration that twisted his gut when he felt Blaine extract his fingers from inside of him and lined his cock (already sporting a condom and lubed up) with this entrance. He couldn't wait to feel Blaine pushing into him from the different angle, to fill him in a new and novel way. Blaine entered him slowly, his shaft sliding in gradually, inch by inch until he was completely enveloped in Kurt's tight, hot channel. The pair exchanged a fiery smolder, both men sharing dark hooded gazes as they adjusted to the feel of each other's bodies. Yet after a few moments, Kurt signaled to him he was ready by clamping down on the hero's length, and then it seemed that his restraint shattered. He began to thrust into Kurt without abandon, each of snap of his hips punctuated with a staccato grunt from the Kryptonian. If it wasn't for all the persistent, tactile reminders—Blaine's borderline bruising grip, his hipbones roughly colliding with the flesh of his ass, not to mention his hot, obscenely large cock practically splitting him in half in the best way possible—Kurt would have sworn he was dreaming. He had never seen his boyfriend act so carnally, so _uninhibited _before. When they made love in the past, sure there had been dirty talk and teasing, but Blaine was always so careful, even in the throes of passion he would check to make sure Kurt was okay. But tonight it seemed that Blaine had thrown caution to the wind, and Kurt was very much alright with that.

"Oh fuck," Kurt whimpered as his eyes rolled back in his head and his head dropped back against the wall. The force of Blaine's thrusts was actually causing his entire body to slide along the wall. For once Kurt was thankful for the fact he was sweating, or else the friction would have been chafing and uncomfortable. "This is so hot."

"Yeah?" Blaine husked.

"_Yeah_," he echoed in reply.

"What about this?" the hero asked as he widened his stance and shuffled closer, thereby enabling himself to penetrate Kurt more directly and with greater fluidity. "How's that for you, baby?"

"_NNNNGH!_" Kurt moaned at shamelessly loud volume. The shift in position caused Blaine to feel impossibly larger inside of him and allowed him to penetrate so much deeper. "So good baby, so _fucking_ good…"

"Mmmm, good," Blaine purred. "I love making you feel good."

At that moment, Kurt was compelled to lift his head to look at Blaine, immediately glad that he did. The hero was staring at him with dim, piercing eyes just as he had before and his olive skin seemed to glisten with a thin sheen of sweat as he continued to piston his hips at a rapid speed. The limited illumination, coming only from the doorway to the living room and the streetlamp in the alley outside Kurt's bedroom window, highlighted Blaine's breathtaking bone structure. Although the gel was starting to give way at the edges, his hair was still slicked back, enhancing his already devastatingly handsome looks. If Kurt didn't know any better, he would have guessed the man making love to him was a movie star from the forties rather than an extraterrestrial superhero.

"You-you're so…" Kurt struggled for the breath and brain power to speak, "…so _strong_."

"That's right," Blaine confirmed, still driving himself into Kurt relentlessly. "Could hold you and fuck you like this 'til the fucking sun comes up."

Kurt answered with a breathy keen as he lost himself in Blaine's naughty promises and the push-pull of his lover's cock pounding his hole. "Fuck, Blaine—so close…"

"So am I, _shit_," the hero panted in reply, his voice betraying the slightest hint of exertion for the first time. "You want to come, babe?"

"_Fuck yes_," he replied in a drawn out, wanton moan.

"I've got you," Blaine coaxed Kurt, supporting with one hand once again so he could stroke the other man to completion. "That's it…come on, just let go Kurt…"

The reporter climaxed with an embarrassingly high cry, his release spurting into Blaine's hand and across his chiseled chest. He clung to his boyfriend desperately, his chin tucked into his chest as he rode the seemingly never ending waves of his orgasm while Blaine continued to thrust into him vigorously, the hero's labored breathing indicating he was on the brink of coming as well. Summoning a final bout of energy, Kurt bore down on Blaine's cock and less than a minute later could feel the hero's respective release fill the condom along with his long, low groan of satisfaction.

He looked up blearily and found Blaine gazing at him once again, his eyes softer than they were during the heat of the moment.

"You're incredible," the Kryptonian whispered tenderly. He kissed him lightly. "I love you so much."

"Love you too," he mumbled. Kurt couldn't help but wonder where the wild animal from a few minutes ago had gone, though he certainly didn't mind his caring, doting boyfriend in his place. Especially when he was fairly sure that his bones had been liquefied and that Blaine was the only thing keeping him upright.

The room swayed and he winced as Blaine slipped out of him and carried him the short distance over to the bed.

"Wake me up in twenty," Kurt mumbled, stifling a yawn. "Gotta finish m'article."

"I will, Sweetie," Blaine assured him gently as he deposited him onto the bed.

Kurt cursed how orgasms always took the wind out of him, but he was unable to resist the comfort of his bed that Blaine was currently tucking him into.

The last thing Kurt registered before drifting off was a kiss pressed into the damp skin of his forehead.

0-0-0

Kurt was roused from his slumber by kisses as well.

"Babe, time to wake up," he heard Blaine coo into his ear as the Kryptonian pressed his lips to various spots on his face.

Kurt blinked a few times and was greeted with the sight of Blaine, his natural mess of curls no longer restricted atop his head, dressed in borrowed yoga pants and a t-shirt. He was so drastically different from the man he'd encountered less than an hour before, and it never ceased to stun Kurt just how quickly Blaine could switch gears from sexy, dominant Superman who fucked him into walls to sweet, dorky Blaine who woke him up with kisses and cuddles.

"Come on, my intrepid reporter," Blaine continued to cajole Kurt with caresses. "Gotta finish that front-page article of yours."

"Mmm," he hummed back, "and by 'front-page article' you mean 'Superman propaganda', am I correct?"

"Well, I hear he's good in bed at least," he offered with a cheeky grin.

"That he is," Kurt agreed. He pressed a quick kiss to Blaine's lips. "How long was I out?"

"Like half an hour," Blaine told him, countering the resulting glare from Kurt with an explanation, "Hey, you still have a couple hours before your deadline, okay? Don't look at me like that for letting you sleep an extra ten minutes."

Kurt dismissed the comment with a good-natured roll of his eyes. "Can you get me my—" He wasn't able to finish his request however, since Blaine had vanished and reappeared with his laptop and his tape recorder in a flash. "—thank you."

"Sure thing," he replied with a wink and one last peck on the cheek. "I'll let you work."

Kurt did just that, incorporating his interview with Superman into what he had written earlier and hammering out a conclusion. He could hear the TV on in the other room, leading him to assume that Blaine had already finished his respective writing assignment. Kurt could not fathom how Blaine found the time to keep his full-time job along with his side-career of being a superhero (_or maybe it was reverse? The superhero thing was more of his full-time job and he did the journalism thing on the side_) but "Clark Kent" had yet to turn in an article late since he started at _The Planet_.

Forty-five minutes later, Kurt pulled on some sweats and joined his boyfriend in the living room, engrossed in an episode of _Tabitha's Salon Takeover _and devouring the Thai leftovers as predicted.

"I see you found the Panaeng," he remarked as he made his way over the couch, laptop in hand.

"Hey you," Blaine acknowledged him around a mouthful of pork. "Yeah, I did." He swallowed and motioned to the TV. "This is a repeat, it's the one with the passive-aggressive lesbian and the doggy hair."

"Well, I hate to be a distraction, but can you proofread this for me? I'm exhausted."

"'Course," Blaine nodded and gestured for Kurt to pass him his MacBook as he set his food on the coffee table.

Kurt pretended to watch the show playing on the screen as Blaine looked over his work, but found his boyfriend much more interesting than a trashy salon's transformation. He couldn't get over how right this all felt, Blaine wearing his clothes, eating his leftovers, watching TV in his living room, helping Kurt with his writing…his heart swelled with love for the man sitting next to him. Kurt had always been so guarded, so wary to let others into his life after his mother had died, always on some level worried they'd leave or hurt him if he opened up and allowed himself to be weak. But now, he _wanted _to show Blaine all of his flaws, to let him see him at his most vulnerable, since maybe without knowing it, Blaine was doing the same for him. The reporter was fairly sure that next to no one had ever seen Superman in sweats chowing down and watching reality TV. It was in that moment that he realized how much he meant to Blaine, how much Blaine meant to him and…he wanted Blaine to live with him.

_No that's absurd_, a voice in his head immediately piped up. _You've barely been dating for three months and only met him two months prior to that…and yet—_

"This is really good, babe," Blaine's voice pulled Kurt out of his own thoughts. "Though I am a little biased."

Kurt let out a short laugh, "Well, I appreciate the compliment nonetheless. Thank you."

"Is there anything else you need from me?" he asked reclaiming the plate of food in front of him. Kurt watched him stare at it for a moment, noticing how the air between Blaine and the dish seemed to simmer ever-so-slightly, denoting that he was using his heat vision to reheat the food.

"No, I think everything's good, although I am expecting a payoff from you for not writing in detail about your fangirling over Katy Perry this afternoon," he teased, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

Blaine scoffed and rolled his eyes. "It's not _my _fault I know a goddess when I see one."

"Uh-huh," Kurt mock-agreed with him. "You would totally reconsider breasts for her, wouldn't you?"

"Well, only because hers are so nice," he joked in return.

"I love you," Kurt told him earnestly.

"Hmmm, you too," he replied, mouth full of food, but genuine nonetheless.

They slipped back into silence and as the quiet lingered on, Kurt became increasingly tempted to blurt out his (_utterly ridiculous_) "move in with me" notion, so he shook himself and turned back to his laptop.

"I should probably send this to Sue," he began, focusing on the computer screen perhaps a tad _too_ intently. "She'll start cyber-harassing me if I don't."

"'Kay," Blaine responded casually, oblivious to the change in his boyfriend, and happy to go on eating his Panaeng while watching TV. "You should be good to go, I fixed the few typos I found."

"Thanks honey," Kurt chirped, perhaps a tad _too _brightly, as he opened a new e-mail to Sue. He added conversationally. "So I didn't get a chance to ask you how the benefit dinner went."

"It was nice, although it felt kind of awkward to be wearing spandex while everyone around you is in tuxedos and evening gowns," Blaine replied.

"I think that's actually my worst nightmare," the reporter joked as he typed a quick message and attached his article.

Blaine laughed. "I wish you could have been there too, dressed to the nines in Prada or Armani, of course."

"Of course," Kurt reaffirmed playfully, clicking send.

"But fashion aside, it was a really humbling evening. Those kids over at Metropolis General…you spend some time with them and everything is put into perspective. All the art was centered around how I was able to inspire them, but they have no idea that they're so much stronger than I could ever be."

Kurt sent him a supportive, adoring smile, but didn't dare open his mouth. If he did, he was one hundred percent sure he'd mortify himself and Blaine by blurting out something along the lines of _YOU'RE PREFECT AND I WANT TO LOCK YOU IN MY APARTMENT FOREVER. _The two shared a fond look before returning to their respective activities coexisting in a companionable silence; Blaine watching the rest of episode intently despite its rerun status and Kurt half-heartedly trying to answer e-mails to distract himself. When it was over, Blaine clicked off the TV and regarded Kurt with a hopeful expression. "Bed?"

"Mmm, yeah," he complied, wrapping up the e-mail he was answering and closing his laptop.

After completing their respective bedtime routines, they settled under the covers together. Kurt had to repress the flutter in his stomach knowing that if he and Blaine did live together, this could be an every-night sort of thing.

"Night."

"Night."

They leaned in, their lips meeting chastely, but after a few moments it became clear that neither man was quite ready to call it a night yet. Their mouths moved together languidly, Blaine cradling Kurt's jaw with his hand and Kurt fisting his hand in the fabric of Blaine's shirt. The Kryptonian shifted his body closer, and Kurt felt the unmistakable brush of Blaine's erection against his thigh as he did so.

"Something tells me you're not as sleepy as you led me to believe, Mr. Anderson," Kurt murmured enticingly, his lips brushing against his boyfriend's as he spoke.

"Sorry, we can just—"

"Don't apologize," Kurt stopped him and cupped his crotch. "I didn't want to go to bed yet either."

"Well, I'm obviously up for Round Two if you are," he rumbled.

Kurt grinned at him impishly and pulled Blaine on top of him. They continued the thorough exploration of the other's mouths as Blaine snuck his hand between their bodies to palm and squeeze Kurt through his pants to arouse him fully.

"So what do you want to do?" Kurt sighed, breaking away to take a breath. "Honestly, I'm probably too sore to—"

"I could bottom," Blaine interjected, albeit timidly.

Kurt fixed his gaze on his boyfriend, a bit staggered by his proposition. Blaine hadn't bottomed since their first time, and yeah, there had been that night a couple weeks ago where they had fingered each other to orgasm, but otherwise the hero had topped exclusively.

"Yeah?" the reporter questioned, his voice surprised but kind.

"Yeah," Blaine confirmed, burying his face in his boyfriend's neck and confessing against the sensitive skin there, "I know you like when I top—"

"I like _you_," Kurt amended.

"—but I wanna ride you."

A moan ripped from Kurt's throat and his hips bucked up against the hero's thigh.

"I could go for that," Kurt agreed with his trademark nonchalance. He slithered out from under Blaine. "You know, you really do have a magnificent ass. Everybody thinks so."

Blaine quirked an eyebrow in amusement. "Do they?"

"Yes. If I have to hear Missy Gunderson at work yammer on about 'Superman's cute little tush' one more time, I swear I—"

"Hey," Blaine interrupted, knowing all too well where this was going. He kept his voice playful, but reminded him, "You're the only one getting a piece of my tush, no matter how cute and little Missy Gunderson thinks it is."

"You're right," Kurt relented. "Now on your stomach. It's time I've given that tush of yours some long overdue attention."

Blaine obeyed without hesitation, stripping off his shirt and pants before he flipped over. Kurt raised himself up on his knees and straddled Blaine's calves, pausing to take a good, hard (_ugh, really Kurt? Don't you remember anything that Carrie Bradshaw taught you? No punning in the nude) _look at the muscled planes of his lover's back, his line of sight dropping to those two perfect globes, and further down his thick, sturdy legs dusted with wiry, undeniably masculine hair. If there really was anyone up above—God, Elvis, Coco Chanel—Kurt thanked them for sending him a man who had a body that looked like it had been carved out of marble.

The reporter covered Blaine's body with his own, his throbbing cock lined up with the crack of Blaine's ass and began to mouth at the base of his neck while undulating his hips teasingly, which in turn elicited a throaty groan of approval from the man below him. Kurt continued to grind himself between Blaine's cheeks and could have easily and happily gotten off just like that, but the promise of the hero on top of him, working himself up and down on his cock was too good to pass up.

Thus, Kurt began to trail his lips downward, kissing the notches of Blaine's spine, his hands massaging and rubbing the muscles flanking the bone on either side of his back before he reached his destination. He took a moment to gaze at Blaine's backside again before nibbling on one of the mounds of flesh, rather astounded that it had taken so long for him to fully take advantage of his boyfriend's oh-so-biteable ass. The action spurred another contented sound from Blaine, this one higher and needier. Kurt granted him his nonverbal plea and pulled his cheeks apart to reveal his small, tantalizing hole. He leaned closer and—

"_Kurt!_" Blaine cried in reaction to the reporter swiping his tongue over his most sensitive spot. "That's…hmm—fuck, baby…please don't stop…"

He further worshipped Blaine with his tongue, pushing the muscle inside him a minute later, needing to taste his lover before slipping a finger in as well. Blaine let out a high keen, and when Kurt retracted his tongue, the hero was one step ahead, shoving the bottle of lube into the other man's hands.

"Who's eager now?" Kurt inquired complacently.

The Kryptonian grunted and demanded shamelessly, "Shut up and finger me."

"Bossy, too," he chided with a laugh. It comforted him to know that he could take his boyfriend apart in the same way that Blaine could to him. Not that he was complaining about Blaine's ability to literally make him pass out from pleasure, but they were supposed to be partners, and it reassured Kurt to see that he could reduce Blaine to a quivering wanton mess of man as well.

Kurt removed his finger from Blaine temporarily to coat more digits, and re-entered the hero with two slick fingers. He proceeded to stretch the hero thoroughly, pausing briefly to inform Blaine that the pillow he was clutching was from Bloomingdale's and if he tore it to shreds he _would _be buying him the exact one hundred and sixty-five dollar replacement, to which Blaine replied "Whatever Kurt" and squeezed around the three fingers inside him impatiently. By the time he was properly stretched, both men were frenzied with lust, and scrambled to rearrange themselves for the main event. Kurt settled on his back, knees bent and feet planted on the bed, hands braced on Blaine's hips as the he hovered above him. He snatched the lube off the sheets once more, squirted a generous dollop into his hand, and took hold of Kurt's cock, stroking him a handful of times with sharp tugs, then positioning himself.

Kurt choked on his own breath at the feel of Blaine lowering himself onto Kurt's member, the walls of his tight ass gripping him snugly once he was completely sheathed, and his buttocks resting flush with his hips. The reporter's eyes squeezed shut at the sensation and he took a moment to adjust to feel of his boyfriend surrounding—and very nearly overwhelming—him. When his lids fluttered open, he could see Blaine looking down at him, his hazel eyes dilated to a dark onyx, his full lips parted in an alluring pout, his rippled abdomen taut with tension and barely contained restraint, his massive cock red and leaking. As much as he didn't want to, he couldn't keep his eyes from rolling back in his head, staggered by the sight before him.

"Babe," Blaine grunted, shifting slightly in Kurt's lap, the movement sending minute sparks of pleasure from his cock all throughout his body, a promise of what was to come (_It may be against the rules, but that was a good one Hummel_). "Please tell me I can move."

He managed to make eye contact with Blaine and nodded. "Nnngh—go."

The hero immediately began to move as soon as he received the go ahead. Kurt's hands, which had been holding his hips, dug into the skin there as Blaine lifted and dropped himself on the reporter's dick, the hero wearing a debauched expression as he steadily rode Kurt. Their pace started out as a leisurely one, each man savoring the feel of the other, enjoying the intimate friction their bodies were creating. The slowness was short-lived however when Blaine let his hands rest on Kurt's pecs and transitioned into full on bouncing on Kurt's shaft with twice the agility and ease of an average man.

"Oh my _God_," Kurt ground out. "You…you're—you're amazing."

"Fuck…you are," Blaine panted in return, not faltering for a second. "You feel so big inside me…feel so full—"

"Mmmm, love you riding me…so…so _sexy_," Kurt babbled. _Why on earth has it taken us this long to do this?_

"Come on, _harder_," Blaine pleaded. The reporter had never heard his voice so wrecked. "Give it to me Kurt, _fuck my ass._"

_Like I could even imagine trying to resist a plea like that. _It took him a second of fumbling to match his rhythm, but soon Kurt was bucking up, meeting Blaine every time he sank down on his cock. Their coital conversation lapsed into needy noises and half-formed attempts at speech, dominated by the sound of their bodies meeting with the unmistakable slap of skin-on-skin. Kurt marveled to himself as he watched his lover wholeheartedly impale himself on his member, he only used to be able to call his sex life vanilla and sporadic at best, but ever since Blaine had entered his life, he could say—

"_Ah!_" Kurt shouted. Blaine had added a hip swivel-thingy in addition to his bouncing on the other man's length.

The Kryptonian simply grinned down at him wolfishly and repeated the movement at a deliciously punishing speed. He removed his hands Kurt's chest to run his fingers through his hair (the reporter suspected it was to keep himself from pressing down and crushing Kurt's ribcage), the action giving him a spectacular view of Blaine's impeccable arms, and that was it for him. Kurt cried out as he felt his cock pulse and twitch inside of Blaine's stiflingly hot ass as he peaked, his thrusts stilling as his orgasm consumed him. Fortunately, Kurt retained enough of his wits to think to get Blaine off as well. His hand closed around the hero's dick, frantically pumping his large shaft until he heard the other man shout out in orgasmic bliss and felt Blaine's release spurt out onto his stomach in pearly ropes.

Once both of their climaxes had ebbed away, Blaine fell forward, catching himself on his palms and hovering above Kurt to claim his lips in a possessive, passionate liplock. His gaze dropped down to Kurt's abdomen where he witnessed the streaks of come cooling on the overheated, flushed skin of his torso.

"I got you all messy," he remarked in a whisper.

"S'fine," Kurt murmured, fairly certain that Blaine had actually fucked his brains out.

Despite his dismissal, Kurt felt a damp cloth being dragged along his skin a split-second later, then the bed dip and Blaine snuggle up to him a little after that. He was just about to drift into a very contented slumber when Blaine spoke.

"Can we have this much sex every night?"

Kurt snorted. "Sure, you stop that saving the world thing you do all the time and I'll quit my job."

"Hm, deal."

He chuckled quietly and finally allowed the exhaustion weighing on his eyelids to wash over him. He knew Blaine would be gone within the hour, but even so, he relished the ability to sleep in the solid protection of his boyfriend's arms.

**A/N: Okay, so there was supposed to be a Karofsky bit at the end of this, but I was skimming over old chapters and realized that this is like twice the size of what I used to regularly post. I guess **_**You're a God **_**got me into the habit of writing marathon chapters, I don't know. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this installment and the Karofsky bit will probably be up some time next week!**

**One more thing! Now that FF has a nifty image feature, if I have any artistically or photoshop gifted readers that would like to make a cover for this, I would write you a fill based on a prompt of your choosing! I don't do any really hard kinks (watersports, scat, vore, gore, bloodplay unless its vampires, cannibalism, heavy BDSM, etc) but PM me if you're interested! It would make a lovely one-year anniversary present (July 4****th****!) for the story!**

**Hearts and Stars,**

**youngandobsessed **


	26. Chapter 24

**A/N: Oh my goodness! I can't believe today is this story's one-year anniversary! Thanks to all of your unwavering support over this past year, I have been able to carry this story to its near-completion! Also a big extra special thank you to IJustCantChoose for making not one, but TWO awesome covers for the story! One's currently the story's cover and the other is my avatar, but they're so pretty I'm adding the links so you can get a better look! **

**Cover 1: ** .

**Cover 2: ** .

**Okay, so this update's a shorty, but it's intense. **

**WARNINGS: Heavy use of foul language, threats of violence, and a gay slur. **

Kryptonite Chapter 24

Dave dimmed the lights in his study. Maybe it was a little melodramatic, yes, but the billionaire wasn't afraid to pull out all the stops regarding something as important as this. He would get that little rat to talk, damn it, by whatever means necessary. Once he deemed that ambiance sufficiently ominous, Dave took his seat in his tall leather chair behind his robust mahogany desk, occupying his wait by adjusting himself to appear as menacing as possible.

It wasn't long before Azimio and Strando burst through the doorway, a squirming, sniveling Jacob in tow. They thrust him into the center of the room where Dave was waiting, dangerously calm and placid at his desk.

"Wha-what's this all about?" he stammered, his eyes darting side-to-side shiftily. He could see the two burly men standing guard at the exit, clearing eliminating any chance at escape.

"I don't know, Jacob," Dave kept his voice from betraying too much of the rage barely contained beneath his composed tone. "You tell me. I asked you to collect information for me today, and yet you come back this evening and have nothing to say to me."

Jacob swallowed uneasily, and could feel himself beginning to perspire. "I—um, I'm sorry, boss, but you know Superman is kind of a hard guy to pin down—"

"I'm just very disappointed, you see," Dave spoke over the smaller man. He rose from his desk and began to advance closer, "because I thought we had an understanding. I needed your help, Jacob, and that's what we do here—help each other. I help Azimio and Strando, for instance, I give them a salary and a roof over their heads, and they help me by being my security detail. And after I helped you when I saved your life when those mobsters that wanted to kill you eleven years ago, I thought the least you could do was help me in return with this small favor."

"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry," Jacob wheezed. "I wanted to help—"

"WELL THAT'S NOT GOOD ENOUGH!" the billionaire roared, his face red with anger. "DO YOU KNOW WHAT'S AT STAKE HERE? DO YOU HAVE ANY FUCKING IDEA?"

"I'm _sorry_—"

"FUCK SORRY, YOU NO GOOD PIECE OF SHIT!" Dave hollered. He grabbed Jacob by the shirt and yanked him so they were face to face, Dave towering over him intimidatingly. "I _know _you know something, you're the best rat in town, why do you think I keep you around in the first place?" He shook the smaller man. "What is it? What aren't you telling me?"

The sweat was dripping down Jacob's face now, his thin frame shaking. It was impossible to think over the roaring rush of blood in his ears, his mind frozen from fright, unable to properly weigh his options and craft something to say. "It's just…It's just San-Santana threatened me—"

"_Her_?" Dave snapped. "You really think anything that bitch threatened you with could be worse than what _I_ could do to you? Let me remind you that I am currently in possession of more nuclear firepower than anyone else ON THIS ENTIRE FUCKING PLANET! AND YOU'RE WORRIED ABOUT THAT _DYKE_? Fuck, you're dumber than you look, Israel!" He thrashed Jacob once more. "Now you're going to tell me what you found out about Superman today or I swear to God I will strap you onto the biggest warhead I got and _FIRE IT_!"

"HE KNOWS ABOUT THE STOLEN MISSILES!" Jacob sobbed. His fear had gotten the best of him, all pretense gone as he openly wept. "Hummel asked him about it at th-the press conference today and Hummel…he's…he's Louis Lane."

"_He's _Louis Lane?" Dave repeated, utterly bewildered. He released Jacob from his hold. Initially, it shocked the billionaire to think that _Kurt _had been such a thorn in his side when it came to all the press attention of what was supposed to be his covert operation. Unfortunately, it seemed that Hummel was more than just a hot piece of ass, but a damn good reporter as well.

_This is going to be something we'll laugh about ten years from now, _Dave told himself, determined not to let this development faze him. _We'll be sipping pina coladas ocean side at the Luthor West Coast estate. And then we'll kick out all the staff and screw. _

Even though the discovery of Kurt's pen name was imperative information, the billionaire had a feeling that the reporter's alter ego wasn't all that Jacob had learned today. _No, it has to be something more, the man's crying for Chrissake. What is so incriminating that Santana doesn't want me to know and would reduce Metropolis' most ruthless rat to tears? _

"What else?" Dave demanded in a low voice. "You know I was going to reward you for finding out Hummel's penname, but you've been such a difficult little shit tonight that you're lucky to escape with your ribs intact. Now _what else _did you find out today about Superman?"

"I-I ca-can't," Jacob gasped, hyperventilating at this point. David was right, he _was_ the best rat in all of Metropolis. He knew all about his boss's sexual preferences, and had known about them for years, ever since he hacked into Dave's personal computer once in what was an attempt to find a sextape starring Santana, but instead stumbled upon adult entertainment of a much different variety. And he knew how the billionaire really felt about Hummel too. Santana had confirmed earlier. Therefore, he was beyond horrified how Boss would react to hearing what he had witnessed this afternoon, especially with his unconditional hatred of Superman.

"YOU TELL ME WHAT YOU KNOW OR I'LL—"

"THEY'RE FUCKING, OKAY?" Jacob wailed, his voice breaking from emotion and exhaustion.

"Who?" Dave followed up immediately, persistent but slightly jarred. "Who's fucking?"

Jacob looked at him fearfully, dread apparent on every feature. "Superman and…"

Dave's stomach dropped.

_No. _

"How…" he struggled to speak, his mind racing at a million miles a minute and a fiery rage crackling under his skin like lightning. "…how did you—"

"I-I followed Hummel into…into an alley…and then Superman was there and they were…making out and like grinding a-and they were being cutesy too…and—"

The remainder of Jacob's description was drowned out by the crash of the contents of Dave's desk colliding with the marble floor. The billionaire stood over the mess of papers and shattered glass, his eyes alight with fury.

"THAT UNWORTHY FUCK!" He bellowed. Jacob instantly shrank back, even Strando flinched. Dave paced back and forth, practically stomping in his ire. His hands flew to his cropped brown hair, ineffectually tugging at the strands. When he spoke again, it was as if he had forgotten that the three other men in the room. "Why…why does he get EVERYTHING and I…I GET NOTHING! I GET _NOTHING!" _He slammed his fist into the wood surface of the desk, barely noticing the sting and ache the impact caused._ "_It's not…" his voice sounded thicker now, choked up with tears. "…it's not…why does he…what does he even…"

Jacob glanced back at the two larger men in panic, both of which offered him little more than a baffled shrug.

"I'm going to _kill _him," Dave seethed.

Yet even in his wrath, he achieved a moment of clarity. A moment that made all the anger and pain worth it. A moment that changed everything.

_And now you know how._

**A/N: I wasn't kidding about the intense thing! Or maybe you didn't think it was all that intense so I was, but unintentionally. Anyhoo, I'll be back with more soon! Just like a year ago when I posted this story doubting it would get any real attention, I still read every single review. They never fail to make me smile and motivate me to be a better writer. I know I constantly beg for them, but I've never really thought a story of mine would garner almost five hundred review, so just thank you. **

**Hearts and Stars,**

**youngandobsessed**


	27. Chapter 25 Preview

**A/N: Hi everyone! I know it's been a while, but this story is not abandoned I promise! Things have been pretty busy for me and I've also had some trouble with how I want to write this next chapter. Anyhow, you all have been so amazing and supportive that I've decided to give everyone a little teaser of what's to come while I get my act together: **

"Look!" Azimio urged his boss, pointing a dark, beefy finger at the headline in the newspaper spread out on the table of the ostentatious dining room.

Dave swallowed his bite of bacon to read the print before him.

**UNSANCTIONED NUCLEAR BOMB TESTINGS IN NEW MEXICO—SHOULD METROPOLIS BE CONCERNED? **

Needless to say, the billionaire was unsettled by the article, but it wasn't the fact that the inner-workings of the biggest, most important endeavor of his life was being exposed to the most-read newspaper in the world, it was the byline. There, staring him back in the face—practically _taunting _him—in small, neat font were the words "by Louis Lane".

0-0-0

"I'll never get tired of that, 'by Louis Lane'." Kurt exhaled dreamily as he studied with article with wide, adoring eyes. When he found that Artie was fixing him with a critical look, he snapped exasperatedly, "What? Like you don't get a kick out of seeing 'Photo Credit: Jimmy Olsen' on all of those front page covers."

"You got me there," Artie conceded, "It is pretty baller. If only I could actually tell people those were my shots."

"Yeah, well, it's the downside of pennames, I guess," Kurt shrugged. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to distract you or waste your time or anything, I just wanted to thank you for coming with me to do some recon with me a couple weeks ago, it seems like it wasn't for naught."

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"Fuck, he doesn't quit, does he?" Dave asked no one in particular as he scanned through the piece for the fourth time. "Whether its snooping around my test sites or harassing his spandex-wearing midget fuck-buddy at press conferences, _he will not get off my ass_!"

"Ironic, seeing as how much you want to be on his ass," Santana chimed in from her place at the table.

"Shut up, Santana," Dave growled before letting out a sigh of exhaustion and frustration. He scrubbed a hand over his face and paused for a few moments to think. "Something needs to be done," he said quietly after a minute so. "If we don't do something about this soon, he's just going to blow the lid off the whole thing and ruin everything. We can't let him keep this up."

"So what are you going to do?" Santana pressed cautiously, frightened as to what her boss could have come up with. Dave was unstable, and even worse, these past days he had been vulnerable, a trait he over-compensated for with brash decisions and violence. She had always thought she knew what he was capable of, but lately with this West Coast nightmare and their "wedding", it downright terrified Santana to imagine what Dave could use his power and influence to perpetrate.

Dave's face split into a sickeningly satisfied grin. "Well, if it's the story he wants, we'll give it to him. He'll get a front row seat to my own personal little act of God, but it will be on _my _terms, that's for damn sure."

**A/N: As you can see, these next few chapters are going to be biggies, hence my trouble with writing them. But fear not, I have recently broken through a bout of writer's block/laziness and hopefully I can get the full chapter out to you sometime soon. Thank you all so much again for supporting this story. By the way, since I've last updated ****BeccaColfer**** has done some great fanart for the story so many thanks to her, be sure to go check it out on her profile! **

**-youngandobsessed**


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